Carmilla Innocence Lost
by Cat Grey
Summary: An erotic story based on the book Carmilla. New plot, new characters and hopefully a truly enjoyable experience for the reader. Please note: this is intended for mature readers only! A new chapter each week for those who wish it to continue.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

An Early Fright

Not far from Vienna, we, though by no means a magnificent family, inhabit a castle. A small income, in this part of the world, goes a great way. Eight or nine hundred a year does wonders for the properly modest family. Across the sea this small income would scarcely cover the expenses of a carriage and four but here we are considered quite wealthy. My father is English, and though I bear an English name, I have never seen England. But here, in this lonely and primitive place, where everything is so marvelously cheap, I really don't see how ever so much more money would at all materially add to our comforts, or even luxuries.

My father had been in the Austrian service until three years ago whereupon he retired with a small pension and his patrimony. He purchased this feudal residence, and the small estate on which it stands, at a great bargain which pleased him immensely. Nothing could have been more picturesque or solitary. It stands on a slight eminence deep in the forest. The road, very old and narrow, passes in front of its drawbridge, never raised in my time. The surrounding moat is stocked with perch and sailed over by many black swans among soft white fleets of water lilies. Over all this the castle shows its many-windowed front; its towers, and its brooding Gothic chapel.

The forest opens into an irregular and very sunny glade before its gate, and at the right a steep Gothic bridge carries the road over a stream that winds in deep shadow through the ancient trees. I have said that this is a very lonely place. Judge whether or not I speak the truth. Looking from the hall door towards the road, the forest in which our castle stands extends fifteen miles to the right, and twelve to the left. The nearest inhabited village is about seven miles to the left and on a nice summer day is a good stretch of the legs. The nearest inhabited estate of any historic associations, is that of old Ravenswood Hall nearly twenty miles away to the right.

I have said "the nearest _inhabited _village," because there is, only three miles westward, that is to say in the direction of Ravenswood Hall, a ruined village, with its quaint little church, now roofless, in the aisle of which are the moldering tombs of the proud family of Karnstein, now extinct, who once owned the equally desolate chateau which, in the thick of the forest, overlooks the silent ruins of the town. Respecting the cause of the desertion of this striking and melancholy spot, there is a legend which I shall relate to you another time.

I must tell you now, how very small is the party who constitute the inhabitants of our castle. I don't include servants, or those dependents who occupy rooms in the buildings attached to the estate. My father, who is the kindest man on earth, but growing old; and I, at the date of my story, only nineteen comprise our tiny family. My mother died before I learned to walk, but I had a good-natured governess, who had been with me from, I might almost say, my infancy. I could not remember the time when her round gentle face was not a familiar picture in my memory.

This was Madame Perrodon, a native of Berne, whose care and good nature brought a mothers comfort to me after the loss of my own, whom I do not even remember, so early she in my life she went to God. Madame made a third at our little dinner party. There was a fourth, Mademoiselle De Lafontaine, a lady such as you term, I believe, a "finishing governess." She spoke French and German, Madame Perrodon French and broken Italian, to which my father and I added English, which, partly to prevent its becoming a lost language among us, and partly from patriotic motives, we spoke used it daily. The consequence was a verbal mishmash, at which strangers used to laugh, and which I shall make no attempt to reproduce in this narrative. And there were two or three young lady friends besides, pretty nearly of my own age, who were occasional visitors, for longer or shorter terms; and these visits I sometimes returned.

These were our regular social resources; but of course there were chance visits from neighbors of only five or six leagues distance. My life was, notwithstanding, rather a solitary one, I can assure you. My governesses had just so much control over me as you might conjecture such sage persons would have in the case of a rather spoiled girl, whose only parent allowed her pretty nearly her own way in everything.

The first occurrence in my existence, which produced a terrible impression upon my mind, which, in fact, never has been effaced, was one of the very earliest incidents of my life which I can recollect. Some people will think it so trifling that it should not be recorded here. You shall see however, by-and-by, why I mention it.

The nursery, as it was called, though I had it all to myself, was a large room in the upper story of the castle, with a steep oak roof. I can't have been much more than six years old, when one night I awoke, and looking round the room from my bed, failed to see the nursery maid. Neither was my nurse there; and I thought myself alone. I was not frightened, for I was one of those happy children who are studiously kept in ignorance of ghost stories, fairy tales, and of all such lore as makes us cover up our heads when the door cracks suddenly, or the flicker of an expiring candle makes the shadow of a bedpost dance upon the wall, nearer to our faces.

I was vexed and insulted at finding myself, alone and neglected. I began to whimper, preparatory to a hearty bout of roaring; when to my surprise, I saw a solemn, but very elegant face looking at me from the side of the bed. It was that of a young lady who was kneeling, with her hands under the coverlet. I looked at her with a kind of pleased wonder, and ceased whimpering. She caressed me with her hands, so warm and soft and lay down beside me on the bed, then drew me towards her, smiling; I felt immediately delightfully soothed, and fell asleep again.

Sometime after I was awakened by a sensation most painful as if two needles ran deeply into my breast at the same moment, and I cried out in shock. The lady started back, with her eyes fixed on me, luminous and cat like in the dark. Then without a sound she slipped down upon the floor, and, as I wondered what she would do next, hid herself under the bed.

I was now for the first time frightened, and I yelled with all my might. Nurse, nursery maid, housekeeper, all came running in, and hearing my story, they made light of it, soothing me all they could meanwhile. Child that I was, I could still perceive that their faces were pale and tight with an unwanted look of anxiety. I saw them look under the bed, and about the room, and peep under tables and pluck open cupboards only to find what was expected. Then the housekeeper whispered to the nurse: "Lay your hand along that hollow in the bed; someone _did _lie there, as sure as you did not; the place is still warm to the touch."

I remember the nursery maid petting me, and all three examining my chest, where I told them I felt the puncture, and pronouncing that there was no sign visible that any such thing had happened to me.

The morning after I saw this apparition I was in a state of terror. Trembling and fearful I could not bear to be left alone, daylight though it was, for even a single moment. I remember my father coming up and standing at the bedside, and talking cheerfully, and asking the nurse a number of questions, and laughing very heartily at one of the answers; and patting me on the shoulder, and kissing me, and telling me not to be frightened, that it was nothing but a dream and could not hurt me.

The housekeeper and the two other servants who were in charge of the nursery, remained sitting up all night; and from that time a servant always sat up in the nursery until I was nearing the age of sixteen. But in truth I was not comforted, for I knew the visit of the strange woman was _not _a dream; and I was _awfully _frightened. I was slightly consoled by the nursery maid's assuring me that it was she who had come and looked at me, and lain down beside me in the bed, and that I must have been half-dreaming not to have known her face. But this assurance, though supported by the nurse, did not quite satisfy me.

The skin just above my heart still felt tender and warm to the touch. Even as a small child I wondered how that could be? Did not the sensations of a dream fade with the morning light? For I remembered with startling detail my night visitors face and it was nothing like the rounded, freckled face of my nurse maid with her warm amber eyes.

I remembered, in the course of that day, a venerable old man, in a black cassock, coming into the room with the nurse and housekeeper. Talking a little to them, and very kindly to me; his face sweet and gentle, he said they were going to pray for me. Then he joined my hands together, and desired me to say, softly, while they were praying, "Lord hear all good prayers for us, for Jesus' sake."

I think these were the very words, for I often repeated them to myself, and my nurse cautioned me for years to say them in my prayers. I remember so well the thoughtful sweet face of that white-haired old man. His black cassock draped about him, as he stood in that rude, lofty, brown room, with the clumsy furniture of a fashion three hundred years old. The scanty light entering its shadowy atmosphere, dancing with motes of dust in the breeze through the small lattice as his soft words calmed me. He kneeled, and the three women with him, and he prayed aloud with an earnest quavering voice for, what appeared to me, a long time.

I forget all my life preceding that event, and for some time after my memories remained also obscured, but the scenes I have just described stand out vivid as the isolated pictures of the phantasmagoria surrounded by endless darkness.

During my eighteenth summer, father deemed it no longer necessary for me to have a night watch in the form of nurse or servant. Yet it was only at the start of the next cool spring as I neared my nineteenth birthday that the dreams began anew. I could not imagine speaking of them to father as the subject matter would have alarmed him unnecessarily. He was growing frail with age and I feared my overly active nocturnal imagination would hasten his decline. Then there was also the consideration of my impending women-hood; should father feel I was not in the best of health he may decide to delay seeking a suitable companion as husband for me. So I kept my secret close to my heart just under the warm spot on my skin where I had felt that phantom bite so many years ago.

Even so, there were times when the staff would comment to father about the periodic mornings when they would find me in such a disheveled state; nearly naked and in a stupor that father expressed his concern about my situation and bemoaned the loss of my mother for he was sure she would have known what to do. He grew convinced that the source of my night terrors; for that is what he called them had to do with the nursery. He directed me to choose any room in the castle for my new bedroom and gave me a generous allowance with which to decorate it.

I spent weeks pouring over ideas for my new chamber. First I toured all the unused rooms on the upper most floors in the castle seeking furniture that I might like and also to please my father by not over-extending my funds. Each day I emerged dusty and tousled for lunch where the ladies would bemoan my state and father would chuckle at his intrepid daughter's excursions.

One afternoon it was quite dreary and the sky was leaden with unshed rain. I had wandered into another room and in a fit of pique slumped on a low chaise by the heavy curtains that whispered with dust. I must have drifted off for it was the stealthy voices that dragged me for my afternoon slumber. I opened my eyes but did not rise from my hidden spot as I was held in place by a low male chuckle of amusement. "Your cheeks are flushed; pray tell my pretty rose, are you in need of my assistance?"

While the words shocked me it was a far greater surprise when I realized that it was in fact Mademoiselle De Lafontaine who was also present.

"Ravish me" she whispered in a voice heavy with desire. "I can wait no longer." I peered through the ornamental screen that concealed my presence from the randy servants. I watched with my heart skipping faster as strong muscled hands gripped her waist and swung her easily onto the tester bed. He pushed the delicate fabric from her shoulders with one swift movement to expose her breasts to the cool air causing a shuddering sigh to pass her lips. His hands curved over them, his thumbs rubbing the already taut nipples to an aching plush hardness. It was obvious Mademoiselle was enjoying herself as her eyes were half closed perhaps to better concentrate on the sensations washing over her. I felt myself growing flushed with desire as she moaned wordless approval of his skills. I turned my eyes away for I was both shocked at my blatant interest and fear that I would be caught out as a voyeur. Yet I could not constrain my interest and let the lust of the others wrap me in the moment.

Once again plying my gaze through the screen I found that he was kissing her breasts and sucking on her nipples as her head was thrown back in a semblance of rapture. Her chest was rising and falling as she panted in her need for his continued attentions. He seemed to be reading her responses which then cued him to further actions. She let out a whimper and pulled her head back to gaze at the top of his crown and in an instant he had pushed her back on the bed following her to press his hands against the insides of her knees and force them apart. Finding her welcoming and willing he parted the soft fabric of her drawers to enable his fingers to make contact with the softer heated flesh beneath. His touch was light and with the utmost delicacy his fingers fluttered through her curls down to her bum and back where they swirled around her swollen hood. "Oh dear God, yes," she gasped her voice reverberating with need.

He played with her, teasing, tantalizing, until she was gasping with frustration attempting to push herself onto the elusive thick fingers. Rocking her hips back and forth she still could not gain satisfaction. I found myself flexing my pelvic muscles in time with Mademoiselle neither of us gaining satisfaction but rather driving both of us to a sexual need that was all enveloping. I nearly moaned in frustration that she would at least be rewarded but I was surely to be left to my own devices.

Rolling her head forward she opened her eyes and whispered, "please," as her gaze focused on the long masculine fingers now slippery with her juices. Planting her delicate heels against the footboard she thrust her hips skyward forcing his palm to press down on her trembling mound. But still he denied her. His golden brown eyes radiated amusement and I realized he was fully enjoying her torment. I watched and wondered what it would be like to change places with her and stare upwards into that handsome face grinning down at me as I twisted and shuddered with need.

I could feel a rising sense of her anger merge with desperation for satisfaction as she pushed herself up onto her elbows and speared him with angry blue eyes. "Bastard" she hissed lightly at him, "if you find yourself not up to the task then leave off teasing me and I'll do the damn job myself." I nearly gasped aloud at the harsh words of Mademoiselle.

Throwing back his head he roared with laughter and squeezed his fingers firmly into the soft flesh of her thighs. "Well now, I've always wanted a redhead but I had no idea they could be so very demanding".

"Well," she murmured "If you had truly wanted something simple you would have chased someone other than me."

"Hmmm, that's true and yet even though I knew from the beginning it was probably a terrible idea I found myself unable to stop. You fascinated me from the first day I saw you and no matter how I tried I couldn't walk away."

Laughing with delight she chortled back, "I can and I will."

Cocking his head he asked, "You can and will what?"

"Walk away unless you give me what I need."

His teeth flashed white against the blackness of his goatee, "Oh really?"

Dark eyes raked across her torso as his hand slapped gently against her swollen hot lips causing her hips to slam into the mattress and a startled gasp to escape her mouth. Lowering his head to her stomach he flicked his tongue across her belly button then smiled as he watched her shudder. I could scarcely contain my own rising excitement as I watched his dark head burrow between her cool white thighs. I could not see what he was doing with his mouth but it was blatantly obvious that she was thrilled beyond measure with his skill. Panting and whimpering she clutched her hands into his hair as if to keep him in place while her hips rocked into him. I could not tear my gaze from the scene displayed before me. I was torn between shock and an increasingly ardent desire to make myself known if only to stop the violent shudders that were consuming me. Closing my eyes did nothing to sway my feelings of rising and wanton heat that thrummed throughout my body.

It was a loud gasp that caused my eyes to fly open and peek again through the screen. He had stood up and was looming over her with a calculating look on his face. Suddenly without a word he grabbed her hips dragging her bottom to the edge of the bed and thrust himself within her. Her arms flew backwards over her head and she arched suddenly shoving her breasts into the air while the muscles of her neck stood out. I could not take another moment like this. I squeezed my eyes shut and shoved my right hand between my legs rubbing in tight circles while the wet slapping sounds from the bed assaulted my ears. It seemed to last an interminable amount of time but eventually I realized that soft laughter was caressing the air. They must have been spent and would shortly be about their duties. I determined to wait them out and continue on my search for Papa would expect me at dinner to discuss my latest find.

By late afternoon I had selected a massive dark oak bedstead found in a corner room which appeared not to have been entered in a generation the rest of my choices followed in less than a fortnight. I quickly located chests, cabinets and trunks to house my belongings. Everything was placed in the center hall until it could be properly cleaned.

Just before dinner I approached father in the study; he was deeply engrossed in the estate accounts and took no notice of me at first. I wandered around wondering if I should intrude since I had a question for him that required permission for me to act. After much sighing, he finally laughed and pushed down his glasses.

"What now my daughter, have you found some other relic that you must have but it's in a shop window?"

I tried a pout as if I'd been insulted but he saw through my charade and laughed all the more.

"Well speak girl and tell me what's on your mind that has you in such high spirits."

I stood before his desk and blurted out in a most unlady-like fashion, "Tapestries, I have found two in my travels amongst the dust and wish to have them cleaned and hung in my room. I've not seen them before but they are beautiful and would do much to warm the room during the winter."

I waited rocking on my toes for I knew the cost of cleaning and repairing them could be far more than my allowance would cover. Father looked again at the papers spread across his blotter, and then his eyes slowly searched my face.

"Dearest to my heart, let us go together and have a look at these necessary tapestries and see if they are worthy enough to justify the lightening of my purse."

I clapped my hands in delight for I knew that once he saw them he would be unable to leave them rotting in the dark. As he came around the desk I reached for his hand and squeezed it in familial happiness. How lucky a daughter was I, to have such a father, patient, wise and indulgent; he was ever one to encourage my learning and supported my restless mind. I knew he would be as thrilled with my discovery as I.

We took an eternity to arrive on the fourth floor; endless stairs took their toll on father's stamina and I had not the heart to hurry him further despite my excitement. Finally we arrived and paused to slow our breathing at the landing. Father peered into the gloom and asked, "What on earth possessed you to come all the way up here? This lonesome place has not seen the passage of servants in decades. I don't even know if this part of the house is safe for habitation."

I shrugged off his concerns and with the utmost assurance stated, "I have been in this hall and its rooms for the past three days Papa. I have not seen anything untoward nor felt myself fearful for my safety."

Grinning at him I pointed to the door half way down the hall where my precious tapestries awaited his examination. "Come dear Father and you shall see why I beg your indulgence."

The window at the end was totally obscured with dirt and it cast the hall in grubby twilight. Sounds were hushed here and it felt as if we were alone in the world for this brief moment in time. We walked together as he told me that many years before when the castle was full of servants; this had been the floor where they resided. Long ago this castle supported a large family and the number of servants needed to care for them and their guests had filled the halls. Sadly such was not our situation. Fifty servants were no longer required for we were a family of two and father did not host hunts or balls; most of our servants had taken up residence in the larger guest rooms in the third floor hall. Outside of my old nursery none of the rooms on the upper most floors had heard a maids giggle in a century or more.

Father was a most considerate person and saw no reason to house the servants in small wind-blown rooms when so many others went begging for an occupant. It was a tidy arrangement; Cook and her husband had rooms off the kitchen, while the rest slept in chambers located opposite of the central hall.

Periodically he drew to a halt testing a latch to see if it would yield to his hand. Poking his head through a few doors and finding himself beset with sneezing he remarked "How very odd this all is. I had no idea we had such a surplus of furniture"

It seemed many of the rooms had been converted to storage so long ago he had no idea what was in them. He had received an inventory upon the purchase of the estate and its holdings but had not troubled himself or the servants to tackle this area. His only concern had been that the supports and roof were sound. Prior to my parents' arrival he had sent some of the footmen to ensure that there were no leaks or crumbling supports but had issued no orders beyond that. He laughing confessed that after all the years we had lived here this was his first trip to the abandoned uppermost floor of the castle.

Midway along the hall we came to a giant set of double oak doors; black with age and the latches nearly rusted shut with disuse.

"Here it is," I declared with a ringing tone of excitement. "This room is filled with remnants of what the former owners treasured enough to keep but for some reason abandoned. Furniture, tapestries and boxes filled with ladies dresses; although so out of fashion I would hesitate to bother having them cleaned."

I shoved open the heavy doors and proudly turned to him, "there is even more to discover in here that I have not been able to reach."

He followed me in looking around him at the piles of unknown shapes hidden under massive dusty clothes. "Tis amazing Papa, yesterday I even discovered a packet of letters but they were so brittle I could not make out the writing. When I attempted to discern their contents they crumbled into ash."

I wondered aloud who the author had been and why her letters were left here. He looked surprised that so many personal items had been left without care.

"Have you any idea of the author my dear?"

"No all I could make out was the year; 1670, it must have been some type of tragedy befalling the family to have shut away letters and clothes like that. One would think that the lady author would have despaired of their loss."

"Ah and how have you come to the conclusion that the author was a lady?"

"The letters were tied up in aged ribbons and all the clothing I have found suggest a young woman wore them. I surmised that the items were related by ownership."

My eyes dropped down and I realized I was fingering one of the fine brocade sleeves dropping from the edge of an open chest. Sighing with the potential romance of it all I found myself lost in the possibility of some epic Shakespearean tragedy that driven the family to seal off their beloved's effects over two hundred years ago. I was pulled back from my wool-gathering as father piped up.

"My brilliant girl you are most likely right, now show me these tapestries that have so enflamed you."

I turned and picked my way along the near wall until I reached a large wardrobe. Propped along the floor next to it were the rolled tapestries. They were too heavy for me to drag to where father stood gazing about him with an air of bemused contemplation. In my haste I did not wait for him to join me but simply unrolled part of the nearest one to show him the brilliant colors now muted with age. As he walked over he was taking note of the size of the room and how it was nearly packed with shrouded images.

"I imagine we should have some of the stronger footmen go through these rooms. I am quite sure there are items we could donate to some of the estate households for their benefit."

I crouched down and pointed out the leaves and trees that were visible. Golden threads picked out rays of light and the remainder we could see was just as detailed. Father reached down and began to tug; after a bit of exertion on both our parts we had managed to unroll more than half it.

It was a forest scene in which a young girl was petting a unicorn while hunters hid in the foliage. I tore my eyes from the image before me and sought out his reaction. Would he approve? Would he allow the expense needed in restoring the old threads that might have come undone? I could feel my tense shallow breathing and wished he would say something; anything to let me know if he approved or not.

His eyes smiled and he said, "My child this piece is centuries old, perhaps even medieval but no doubt it is well worth the cost of possible repairs. The myth depicted here is beyond ancient. Only a virgin pure of heart, body and soul could call the elusive unicorn to her aid but even then neither is safe from evil. One must always be vigilant and never feel any sympathy for the devil."

I was nodding in agreement when I felt the oddest sensation. Not frightening, just a queer skip of my heart as if for the briefest of moments it had stuttered of its own accord. Thankfully father had turned back to gazing around him as he made his pronouncement and had not noticed my odd behavior. Tossing my head like a nervous colt I shook myself free of the disquiet I felt and rushed to stand with Papa.

He kissed my forehead and petted my hand then told me not to concern myself the tapestries would be cared for at once. Father agreed to have two footmen bring the tapestries down onto main floor. They would be brought outside to the bricked area off the kitchen for a preliminary cleaning. Then we would be able to determine if further restoration was needed.

That night I wondered what we would find the next day once the tapestries were moved. I had only been able to see a corner of the bottom tapestry and had no true notion of what image was woven through it. Father had suggested the servants not be dispatched to move them until morning when he hoped the rain would cease.

As he said, "It would not be prudent to allow rain to damage them further. They have waited all these many years; another day will not bother them."

During dinner the conversation revolved around the room I had found and the mystery owner who once cherished the things in it. It was enough of a curiosity that I was able to engage the assistance of Madame Perrodon and Mademoiselle De Lafontaine the following day to assist me further in my exploration.

The next day dawned favorably with clear skies and warm breezes which meant after breakfast we could start exploring further. I went into the kitchen to pick up the basket I had previously arranged from cook. Hefting it off the small side table I was delighted to realize it would feed the three of us without the need to make the lengthy trek back through the castle for lunch. Even more important we would not have to change for lunch and again for dinner. I fully expected we would be quite dirty after a day spent exploring. Hearing my name uttered in a questioning fashion I blushed hotly when I realized that the tables along the back wall were filled with male staff eating their breakfast.

So intent was I on gripping the basket without pausing to look up I had taken no notice the room was not empty. Thomas the most handsome of the footman nodded to me and wished me a good morning. "We shall be up shortly to fetch the tapestries young Miss and you need not worry as we shall be most careful with them."

I thanked him and Cook for their assistance and enjoined them to finish their meal in comfort. I realized as I retreated with flaming cheeks that Father and I were a most fortunate family in our staff; for they were trustworthy, kind and even more important they seemed genuinely fond of both of us.

Unlike some homes I had visited where servants were treated as invisible unless a mistake was made, my father preferred to treat them as he would junior clerks who had once worked for him at the ministry. They were well cared for, well fed, treated with affection and when no longer able to earn a salary due to age or infirmary he ensured for their comfort within the estate holdings. None would be turned out to fend alone or become a burden to poor relatives. He even refused to dismiss an upstairs maid when it became known she was with child. Poor chit! The girls husband had absconded with their meager wedding gifts leaving her alone and penniless.

I recall it was my tenth summer when this happened but I remember it as if it was yesterday. Seeing the poor girl weeping as she completed her tasks, telling no one of her heartache and fears; I had gone to Father and told him that something was dreadfully wrong with Marie and I wanted him to fix her so that she would smile again. Like all children who look up to their fathers. I believed my papa could solve any trouble within our home. I recall sitting in the garden with my nurse when Father came roaring out of the castle. Shouting like a man possessed he called for his horse.

Yet I could not understand why he should be so violent in his actions. Father would not even allow spurs to be used on his mounts yet I had seen with my own eyes as he gave a hard kick to Goliaths ribs with the heels of his boots. Spinning his horse away from the house cursing in such a fashion my ears burned as he galloped towards the bridge. I had never seen him before in such a state and wondered what had caused it. His obvious anger frightened me and I began to weep; not knowing why. Tears of dismay and confusion rolled down my cheeks as nurse tried to assure me that all would be well.

She hugged me close and said, "Your father is a good man, a kind man, if he is angry there is cause for it. Don't worry any more for I am sure you will see him tonight and he will be much the same as always."

I waited all day for his return, constantly peering out the windows to watch for his arrival. Eventually he arrived at a canter, dismounted and spoke to the head groom. I ran out to greet him and threw myself into his arms.

"Ah daughter, how good of you to welcome me home" he said in a tone that rang of false cheer. "I shall need to take care of some estate business before dinner, so be a good girl and tell Cook I have returned."

He patted me on the head and gave me a gentle shove to send me on my way. I sensed something wrong but did as I was bid. Trudging off to the kitchen I realized he had not included his usual order to avoid pestering everyone with my curiosity which gave me leave to ferret out what I could. I understood this to be an opportunity which in my good conscience gave me free rein to pester at will.

However I had no luck in the kitchen for the adults present refused to answer my questions about Marie. It was only at dinner that father finally addressed the tension rolling through the castle.

"Daughter I wanted to tell you that I am pleased you showed such concern for Marie."

He sighed deeply and looked at the footmen, butler and cook who lingered along the wall. His eyes rested then on the four of us seated at the table.

"You should know that Marie will be blessing the castle with a child and that we should all say prayers for her safe delivery. She is a member of this estate and will be treated as such. Her sister lives nearby within the estate grounds and will help care for the child. Marie will continue to work however she will confine herself to the lower levels. I would not have her risk her health on the stairs. If she should decide to marry again we shall provide a suitable dowry for her. I shall not speak further on this matter."

I heard Cook stifle a sob of gratitude; she then bobbed a courtesy and excused herself back into the kitchen. Remembering poor Marie gave me a renewed sense of purpose. What if the letter writer had been a girl callously abandoned by her betrothed? Had she died of a broken heart? Was that why her parents had shut up all her belongings and left them behind? Had the tapestries been her favorites and once hung in her bedchamber? I hoped to learn more before the day was out.

Two weeks later I heard the carriage rumble across the bridge as I was reading nearby with Mademoiselle de Lafontaine who labored diligently correcting my French pronunciation.

I laid my book in her hands and shouted "They are here, arrived safely and now we shall see them anew!"

I pulled on her arm in my haste and begged her to hurry with me.

"Please we must be quick. I want to see them before they are hung in my new chamber."

Gracious woman that she was, she laughed and raced along with me. We arrived nearly breathless and a bit wild looking from our speedy passage across the lawn. It minutes we were standing before the castle entrance as the driver called a halt to his horses. Father came out and with greetings exchanged offered refreshment to the driver and his two horses. Mr. Statz was pleased to accept a cold drink for them all and laughed when grooms appeared with water buckets and nosebags for his animals.

Grinning with pleasure he chortled, "Ah my Lord you will spoil us all with your hospitality." Bending at the waist he threw out his left arm and drew off the corner of the burlap covering that shielded his cargo.

"I believe the young miss will be greatly pleased with my work. I have brought you the tapestries and they are magnificent. The color has been restored and all damage has been repaired. They are ready for your inspection of course."

I could barely contain my excitement as the tapestries were unloaded and carried into the main hall. Each one was carefully slipped from its protective shroud. The first I saw was the forest scene with the Virgin radiant against the white unicorn. It was more beautiful than I could have imagined. Father pronounced himself well pleased with work of Mr. Statz and we both wondered aloud what the next tapestry would reveal. Smiling at us both in recognition of our pleasure with his expert craftsmanship he whispered in a reverential tone.

"My Lord, young Miss this next tapestry is beyond compare I should not be surprised to find it's like hanging in the Pope's chambers. Tis a rare jewel that you found moldering and I'm greatly pleased to have been given the commission to restore it to its proper glory."

Mr. Statz stepped forward and began unrolling the woolen treasure and I leaned around him trying to understand what I was seeing. Ground, scorched earth, rocks, a horses hooves and something near it; green, scaly with wicked claws whatever could it be? I could not make sense of the bits I could see. Father must have known because he smiled in understanding while I remained perplexed. It was not until Mr. Statz stepped back I could gaze upon the entire scene. It was Saint George slaying the dragon in brilliant colors with such detail the figures seemed to be suspended in the silken knots. St. George astride a glowing white horse flashed golden armor against a sullen sky. Gripping his lance above the dragon's heart as flames danced round his head from the creature's maw he looked more archangel than man.

I stepped closer and felt my eyes go wide for the visor was raised allowing the viewer to see righteous anger igniting deep blue eyes which stared past the monstrous head directly into mine. I could feel my heart thudding in my chest as I searched the image before me. Though not the same, the resemblance was striking nonetheless; Thomas. The footman was clad in a knight's garb and daring anyone who looked to deny his strength, heart and loyalty to defend the realm and the innocent. I continued to cast my eyes about the piece wondering if anyone else would see what I did. Father draped his arm around my shoulders and asked if I liked it.

"Tis not what I had expected but lovely nonetheless" I said. "But do you or Mr. Statz notice anything familiar about it?"

Both men stood in silent contemplation until Mr. Statz offered up his opinion.

"I think young Miss that as I can recall the few others that I have seen with a similar theme, uh, well the dragons' eyes have been black. But when my apprentice was doing the cleaning he first took note of the eyes."

His arm extended and a finger pointed down, "See if you look close you'll see the beast has multi-colored eyes. Dark green rings around a ruby orb. A most unusual choice for whoever commissioned this piece."

Father chortled and said "Perhaps because the dragon represents the Devil himself in one of his many forms or mayhap the gentleman that contracted for it desired to hang it in the main hall where candlelight would make the beast come alive. Give the ladies a reason to cling closer to their husbands after a glance at it."

Father shook hands and requested Mr. Statz follow him to his study so that he might conclude his bill. I was left standing alone with these images and wondering why a young lady might have chosen this terrifying dragon as part of her bedrooms' decoration. I was a bit disturbed by the dragon writhing in death throes but could not tell Papa to hang it somewhere else after the cost he had paid for it. I resolved to say nothing and be of good cheer when he returned.

Later that night I tucked myself into bed and stared at the newly hung tapestries. In the firelight the images seemed to move as if the story they told would progress if only I had eyes to see. I snuggled down into my pillow pleased that I had this new chamber all to myself. I had secreted a book from the mystery room on the top floor. During our excavations I had found a small studded truck, filled with books and journals. It was not so heavy that I could not carry it myself and so just before dinner I placed it in my room so that I might go through it in privacy. Who knew what I might find?

I chose a maroon leather bound book that told tales of ancient Rome and soon found myself engrossed in lives lived long ago. I drifted to sleep thinking of sun-drenched streets and the scent of olive trees. I was warm and content seeing my dream self wander along the Forum. I could feel the heat rising off the cobbles and stroking my legs. The warmth crawled along my limbs until I felt myself in a stupor of languid repose. I was drifting in a haze of growing intensity yet I was not frightened; after all not even nightmares can truly do more than provide a good scare.

It was the queerest sensation; to be dreaming and yet somehow still aware. I could smell the ocean and it was like nothing I had experienced before; a tangy scent I could taste on my tongue. I drew my cloak around me as I felt the chill breeze coming off the water and voice came to me, "do not be afraid for I shall keep you warm and safe." I slowly opened my eyes and looked into the face lying on the pillow next to mine.

I should have been terrified but somehow my mind noted this was just another part of the dream and I relaxed. Icy green eyes appeared to be lit from within but of course this was only the reflection brought about by the last candle still burning. They fixated on me and I waited for what would come next. A warm, soft voice tripped through her impossibly red lips, "I have loved you for so long and it is only now that I can come to you without bringing you harm. Each night over these many years I have waited and it has been the most exquisite agony but no longer for you are ready."

I sighed with happiness for this face that had brought me terror as a child was no threat but just the longed for friend to help assuage my solitary existence. I would have a friend my own age to gossip with, to ride with and maybe we would even attend a party together. I smiled back at her and wondered who she was. "What is your name?"

"Shush, not yet." I watched as she moved closer and began to stroke my hair.

"Such a golden color, I am thinking you are liquid sunshine and moon glow. Such soft skin and so very warm; your essence is intoxicating to me."

I watched her through sleepy eyes and was content to be with her. The stroking was so delicate I again felt myself drifting away. Her breath was sweet and soothing on my face. I wondered how long she would stay and was rewarded with a kiss on my cheek. Her lips trailed hot kisses along my jaw line and lingered on my neck. Her tongue rasped along my throat like a cat and she gently moved her attentions back to my face when I whimpered.

A chuckle rumbled low from her throat. "Ah my sweet, you are trembling and so lovely in your awakening. I shall take special care to give you the utmost pleasure. This night will be my first gift to you; the first of many more. Do not question, do not think, just feel-nothing more will I ask of you."

I opened my eyes to find her looking down at me, turning my head slightly I could see that she was propped up on one elbow. I returned my gaze to her face and let myself go.

She must have sensed my surrender for she gave a slow sultry smile while her eyes narrowed in satisfaction. "You will enjoy this" she purred as she brushed her lips across mine. Had I not been dreaming I would have rejected this advance but after all a dream means nothing and is gone with the morning dew. What harm could come from this strange dream? Giving in I felt her hot tongue lick the corners of my mouth and I felt the strangest tingling rush throughout my body. Her arms came round and clapped me tightly to her as she ravaged my mouth with soft movements. Closing my eyes I found myself responding with a growing passion. Heat, touch and breath had become my existence; there was nothing else.

I was lost to the sensation. The smallest of bites on my lower lip made me open my eyes. I found her gleaming teeth smiling down at me.

"You are lovely to kiss and I am sure that the rest of you is beyond compare. Come, I wish to see you in the moonlight; with your skin glowing bright in passion."

My unnamed dream friend rose up the sheets and pulled me to her. "Come let us see what we can make of the dark that seeks to hide what is ever beautiful."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Innocence Lost

I found myself standing at the doors to the balcony but could not recall how I had arrived here from my bed. Turning to look at the distance and fully expecting to see myself still in slumber amongst the coverlets I was surprised to note the tangled sheets and pillows. The impressions left no doubt that two had lain there as if already lovers. I looked back to the vista beyond the doors. The rippled glass although set in complicated iron fittings through which sunlight cast remarkable patterns during the day now it appeared quite different. In the moon glow the iron ribbons appeared as fine as gossamer spider webs tracing ancient signs across the night sky.

The double doors opened without the aid of my hand and again I heard the voice, "Come to me my darling Laura, you will come to no harm this night. Let me love you and bring you joy for what awaits you is dark rapture."

My ears sought the source of the voice. I knew it was the lady of my childhood dreams but now I was grown and should not be afraid. How very real this dream was.

You may think me silly but have you not ever awoken and been utterly convinced that everything you felt still lingered on your skin even as your eyes pierced the darkness of the room? It was true for me also; I could feel the soft breeze ripple through my night-rail and the stone floor was cold upon my feet as I passed through the doors. I was gazing at the moon when suddenly and without warning I felt her close behind me. My breath quickened and my toes curled under themselves in anticipation but I was still unsure of what was to come. My sleeping gown shifted in the wind and I could feel her hot breath against my nape.

"How much I shall enjoy this night. I can barely restrain my urges but for your sake I shall take care." Her arms snaked around my torso and gripped me tight, "you are so warm, so alive."

A tingling sensation washed through me but not the way it would if I was chilled. Confusion spilled into my thoughts damping my newfound enthusiasm for her company.

"Shhhh my golden child," she hushed me. "Tonight everything you will do and everything you will feel is natural. There is nothing to fear in nature."

I was breathing fast almost as if I had been running but oddly enough I was standing frozen in her arms. I felt heat and moisture on my left earlobe and realized she was licking me as a cat would a bowl of cream. Nearly panting I felt myself shudder with the sensation of it. A low rumbling sigh passed her lips, "just wait for it will grow more intense. I shall give you the greatest gift tonight. One that no man would ever take the time for; my sweet Laura this is only the beginning."

I felt her hands run up my body, skim over my breasts and settle around my shoulders. I do not know why but I kept my eyes locked on the moon as if it would anchor my soul during this dream state I was in. Her breath rushed in and out against the back of my head as she caressed my neck. Long fingers worked their way into my hair undoing the loose braid then cast it all free to the night sky. From the corner of my eye I could see my long hair flicker to my right and away from me. Returning my eyes again to the limpid moon I resolved to wonder at these new sensations and not shy away. Hot kisses again rained down over my neck and I felt my hair being swept aside to expose my nape further. I decided that I would name the sensations in order to quiet the growing riot in my mind. Heat, mouth, the insistent pressure of lips and tongue all gliding up and down along the left side of my neck.

Suddenly I felt a sharp pull on my hair and felt fear run deep into my belly but it was not the bite I was anticipating. Using steady tension my head was slowly turned back bringing my face into her gaze. Burning light spilled from her eyes and I was transfixed by them. Giving me a smile that I could not for the life of me understand; she lowered her head and kissed me. Tender at first then with increasing pressure and ardor. I gasped at this sensation. While one hand continued to pull at my hair holding my head in place the other griped my neck with a force that was most exiting.

Never before had I been kissed like this, sweet, hard and yet arousing, her lips willed my surrender. I opened my mouth to speak, not really knowing what I would say when her thumb ran across my lower lip. "No, say nothing. Feeling is all, words are promises too soon broken."

My breath hitched in reply and she laughed. It was the most amazing sound, as if distant thunder announced the coming of the storm.

"Laura you have the prettiest mouth, so pink and delicate. I can barely contain myself."

With that she dropped her mouth again and I was lost. No sight, no thought, just an animal need to be touched again and again.

The storm did come and it roiled around me. The lady with no name lavished my mouth with hers until I was panting and quivering under her touch. Hot and insistent I was so focused on the taste and feel of her lips that at first I did not notice a chill on my breasts and thighs as the wind danced along under my gown. She pulled back slightly and licked her lips.

I heard her whisper, "As I thought, you are ripe."

I sighed with the wonder of it all and pulled my head away to look again at the moon. I felt her kiss the back of my head in a gesture of affection and I smiled in gratitude. Her hands had returned to my waist during this interlude and I could feel them stroking me softly as one would a skittish horse. They roamed about on the outside of the fabric and played with the laces that held my gown closed.

She murmured, "So very pretty, much like the virgin on your precious tapestry, all white and gold. Needing, wanting aching for something but not knowing what."

I smiled even though I did not understand what she meant; simply enjoying the pleasure of her voice pooling into my hair. Without realizing I had moved I found my body arching into the night as if to encourage her hands to do something, anything to ease this growing ache rising in my loins. My breasts felt as if they would burst from some unknown pressure. Her hands swept up and the lightest touch passed over my chest. Her fingers did not linger long but my nipples rose and puckered in response. Her tongue flicked across mine while her hands and fingers seemed to play everywhere enflaming my skin. Now I was gasping in the heat that coursed through my veins. I felt the fires of hell licking through every inch of my skin nearly shaking my soul with the need I felt but I was dammed for not knowing how to assuage it.

I could feel her smile pressed against my neck and she whispered "You will be magnificent; the rarest of jewels and tonight you will find all that you desire."

The lace and satin ribbons were pulled with the tiniest movements away from my night-rail, so slowly that I placed my hands over hers to speed the process.

"No you must let me for I've had much more practice and you would undo yourself if you rushed. This must be a night of wonder and many years from now simply remembering what will happen tonight will renew the ache in your belly."

Her lips pressed against my ear and she dropped the words in with honeyed tones, "done properly a woman is like the earth, full of life with a serene countenance which belies her true nature. For deep within the daughters of Athena lies the molten core; white hot and it should be nurtured for if the core cools and blackens all of nature and that which resides in us dies."

As she spoke, I felt one of her hands cup my breast against the fabric and she sighed with pleasure. "Soon you will know what you are capable of."

I looked down and watched as her fingers played with the laces feeling as if I would die should she linger much longer. My call was answered as she gently pulled the gown apart; the wind picked up and nipped at my exposed skin enhancing the sensation. I noticed how cool her hands felt as they massaged my chest and pulled at my nipples. I was on fire and did not know how to comfort myself nor dampen the heat. With her mouth against my ear whispering endearments and encouragement she let her right hand trail down; raking her nails against my belly.

I pressed myself back against her and without understanding why ground my hips against her. The sigh we both gave off drifted into the air; wicked away by the breeze.

I still stood with my arms at my side not truly sure what I should be doing. It was happening and it felt like heaven and sin yet I didn't know what to do with myself. The hand on my breast continued to swirl in the softest of touches slowing now and again to roll my nipple between thumb and forefinger. Each time she did that shocks of liquid fire would course down into my womb driving me to distraction. I felt lush and full with life gasping in the sweetest agony of it all. Still I remained motionless.

I suddenly began to fear that an unwarranted movement from me would cause the dream to end before I discovered what I so desperately wanted.

Her right hand began to dip from my belly and play with the downy fluff I had grown between my legs. Twisting, flicking and stroking the hairs induced a frenzy of sensation and I heard myself moan. I cannot recall every making this sound before; it was one of agony and desire. Strange as it was I did not care if she heard me. I felt my hips rock forward of their own volition as if to increase the pressure of her hand.

"Yes," she whispered "so soft, so hot and slick you are almost ready."

I did not know what I was ready for but at this moment I was now most eager to find out. Yet when I was sure she would intensify the stroking of my most secret parts her hand withdrew. I shuddered and whimpered with loss. She shushed me again and her hands returned to my shoulders. Grasping the top of my night-rail she gave a gentle tug.

Stepping back from me the gown went with her and I was left standing; as God made me, naked, shuddering and wanton in the full moon.

"Beautiful," she hissed.

I started to turn towards her but she grasped me again and pulled me into her body. I could feel the buttons of her gown and the velvet of her bodice hard against my spine. Oddly I did not recall her clothing before but I knew that she had been dressed of a fashion I did not recognize.

Long chilled fingers clasped around my neck and again a fission of fear snaked its' way into my heart. She seemed to be struggling with some inner turmoil for her fingers twitched as if she ached to squeeze. Odd noises trickled across the balcony; it sounded as if many cats were purring. Yet I knew the mousers were not on this floor. How very strange!

Ever so slowly her grip lessened and she danced her fingers across my shoulder blades. Then kisses, burning hot and damp started along my hair line and lingered on the top of my back and I felt a slow pressure pushing me forward at the waist.

I complied with the silent command and leaned forward. Her hands roamed my back, came round to linger again on my breasts before resuming their nocturnal journey. I was vibrating with sensation and desirous of more; more heat, more touch anything to give me release from the pressure growing inside. With one hand roving between my hardened breasts I could feel the fingertips of the other slowing scrape their nails along my back. It was a tickle but so much more; causing my nerves to leap and flicker at each movement.

Then both hands came round and gripped my waist, stilling me for a moment. My breathing was harsh and ragged. My skull seemed to tingle with each breeze that danced across us. I was dying and I loved it! I remembered overhearing Cook laugh about her husband and his petite morte…yet it was not until now I understood. After all how could one have a little death? There is no middle ground on this; either you were dead or you were not.

I was brought back to myself by hands cupping my buttocks and squeezing them. I nearly spoke but resolved myself to just revel in the feeling of it. While one hand rubbed and stroked my bum the other raced back and flicked my nipple. I nearly shrieked with need. Then one of her legs pushed against mine and I allowed my stance to widen. Her hand dipped between my legs and began stroking the folds found within while the other continued to taunt my breasts.

My head was thrown back and I roared with satisfaction.

I felt her lips move on my back as she hummed, "this is just the beginning you must steel yourself for more."

My heart pounded and I could not imagine the feelings becoming even more intense. How could any human survive? I felt as if I would fly apart and become nothing more than dust settling upon the ground if I continued. Ashes to ashes; was this how my day would dawn? Rapture casting me into infinity never to be myself again; I would risk all to finish this and know.

She turned me about until I was facing her. I gasped at first for it appeared that her eyes were not only lit from within but shedding light that flickered as she blinked. Hands ran up through my blowing tresses and gripped my head; all the while her eyes leaked out their dark radiance. I was stunned by the vision before me and felt my ribs rise and fall in shallow fits. Fear and passion had combined to leave me breathless. I opened to my mouth to again ask her name but she stopped me with her mouth pressing harshly down onto mine.

I was tumbling and losing all sense of control. Feeling myself become weightless I threw my arms around her to keep from spinning into the night; lost forever among the stars. I do not recall for how long this went on. I had lost all sense of time and place. Only her mouth and hands kept me rooted to the ground. I clung to her and molded myself to her form.

Eventually my senses were somewhat revived when she pulled back to smile into my eyes. Her hands cupped my face as her thumbs traced along my mouth.

"My lovely girl, you require a drink. I think perhaps something to cool you and help slake your thirst. On this night of exploration I have prepared chilled wine for you from my own cellars. A good crisp German wine you should enjoy."

She turned slightly away from me and gestured to a table covered with a dark burgundy cloth. I noted an open bottle and single glass. To one side stood a large fainting couch with pillows and soft sheets spilling to the ground around it.

"Come, allow me to serve you and make you comfortable." I looked down at the proffered hand and stretched out my own to take it. Her fingers wrapped around mine and I followed her to the far side of the balcony. I sensed coolness in her touch as if she had become chilled in the night while I was filled with a smoldering heat that pulsed throughout my limbs.

I cannot describe the sensation of walking naked in the moon light feeling the dark breezes play across the skin. It was delicious and I reveled in it. I allowed myself to be seated in a reclining position and watched with baited breath as she stood before me. Still fully clothed in her strange dress I could see that only her hands, face and neck were exposed to the night. Yet I did not question her nor ask again for her name. She turned away and lifting the glass she poured sparkling clear wine into a silver chased goblet.

I heard the splash as the wine coursed into the receptacle she had brought and was struck by the workmanship that had rendered such beauty into a simple drinking vessel. She raised the glass but her back remained facing me and I could not see how much she imbibed of the liquid. Turning to me she lowered the glass to my outstretched hand and smiled with such rapaciousness that at first I hesitated to take it.

The lady of my night fantasy said, "To your health my darling and the longest of lives."

Laughing she pressed the glass to me and I raised it to my lips while her eyes bored into me with such longing that I blushed under her stare.

"Drink" she said, "drink and be wary for tonight will be like none other you have experienced in your brief sojourn on this earth."

I continued to take slow sips as she watched but she remained motionless as I drained the glass. She purred at me, "Perhaps another to ensure your happiness and then we shall recommence where we left off."

I hesitated to have more wine as father only ever allowed one glass at dinner but then I giggled; for was this not a dream? One cannot become tipsy with wine while sleeping. Grinning boldly I raised the glass back to her for more. Again the goblet was filled but this time she knelt down and raised it to me with two hands; like a holy chalice offered at mass. I smiled and took a sip watching as she raised herself up. Her gown whispered against the stones as she paced a few steps back.

I watched and wondered what amazing thing she would do next. I had not long to wait for she grew still as the grave and watched me through slatted eyes.

Slowly her hands moved across her dress and undid the stays to her bodice. Growling like some hungry animal she tugged at the edges unleashing her breasts with one furious motion. I gasped for she wore no shift beneath and the entire garment slid down leaving her as I was. Nothing between us and Heaven; her skin looked icy cold it was so ghostly white while her hair glinted with twisting shades of violet in the black sheet that fell around her. Speechless I watched with wide eyes as she prowled closer until all I could see was shining eyes and a blood red mouth.

"Be still" she said, "I shall not make you do anything against your will but I long to feel your skin against my own."

I nodded, not knowing what else to do. I could feel my heart pound with my excitement and a sense of terror. Her right hand reached out and held my chin as she forced my head back. The other lingered on my neck feeling the pulse jumping in my veins.

"Now then since you have finished with the wine," she murmured, "I suggest you lay back."

Surprised because I could not remember finishing the second offering I handed back the goblet and slumped against the pillows. I felt so alive and yet frail at the same time. It seemed that I could not sustain the notion that even in my dream whilst, my soul cried out that I was in mortal danger my body denied the truth as I relaxed against the delicate sheets.

I lay in somewhat of a stupor as she crawled up alongside me; petting me as if I was a favorite animal. She pulled me to her and began to kiss me yet again; this time I did not hesitate to reciprocate. One arm supported my head while the other played with my breasts and roamed around my belly.

I found myself twisting and shoving to be closer to her. "Open your mouth dear heart and let me in" she murmured.

I gasped as her tongue pushed against my lips and licked the inner edge of my top lip. Her hand began to stroking me as if she was following a road only she knew. Belly to hip, to buttock and back, her fingers roamed. I began to wiggle my bottom for the growing heat between my legs was driving me mad.

I gasped into her open mouth, "Please, please touch me."

My eyes were closed but I felt her smile against my mouth as she moved her hand between my thighs. Sweet Jesus! I did not yet know what she was doing but it was surely the sweetest sensation this side of heaven. I felt fingers stroking along swollen tender tissues that thrummed with each beat of my heart.

She shifted position and moved lower placing her mouth over my breast and flicking my nipple with her tongue. I thrust against her as if to drive my shuddering bosom straight through her. All this while her fingers twirled and danced across my hidden slit. I recalled she said I need not do anything in reciprocation but I found myself reaching over and attentively touching her exposed breasts. Shocked I pulled my hand away for they felt so cold and I could discern no heartbeat!

My heart was pounding through my chest and yet I felt nothing of hers.

"Shhh Laura, years of experience have allowed me to keep my senses when all should be lost; do not fret only enjoy."

I took her at her word and twisted myself until I could lock my mouth around her nipple attempting to mimic what she had done to mine. To no avail; I could not shake the sensation of the chill in my mouth. Sensing my growing discomfort she increased the pressure and friction over my mossy garden. Once I was thrusting up to meet her hand and moaning in complete abandonment she stopped most suddenly.

I opened my eyes to find her smiling down at me and she held up her hand.

"See," she murmured, "you are wet, telling any lover that you are ready." I blinked back, "ready for what"?

"For this" she purred as she spread my legs and knelt before me. "Wait" I asked, "whatever are you doing?"

Again the low rumbling laugh tumbled past her lips. "What should be done to every girl when she is made love to by another. After all would you find a selfish lover acceptable? I for my part would not."

I hitched my breath and watched; the dark light of the moon showed all. Kisses pressed against the inside of my knees and hands pressed into my thighs. I could not take my eyes away even though I should have felt myself shamed by her actions and my delight. Sharp nails left pink tracks on my skin as she dragged them from my center down to my knees. Then her mouth moved slowly up each mark and kissed away the sting left behind. I felt I would go insane from her touch and the release denied to me.

I sank lower into the cushions and turned my eyes to the sky while she kissed and sucked my inner thighs. I felt the tiniest of bites along the innermost portion of my leg then a warm air rushed against my inflamed skin. I raised my head to look back and saw she had her chin resting amongst my secret curls.

A wicked smile curled her lips; her teeth flashed in the dark. I felt myself smiling in return but wait; did I not just spy fangs? Silly girl I told myself; people don't have fangs- not even in dreams. Her mouth closed slightly and her tongue peaked out along the corner. I watched transfixed as it glided to the center of her mouth and she wiggled the tip of it at me. I giggled with drowsy delight and reached out to stroke her hair.

The feeling of it was so different from mine; it had an animal like silkiness that I lacked. I felt her hands reach under my bottom as if to pull me closer but as I attempted to assist her thumbs pressed against the heat of the puffy lips.

"Be still" she said.

She lowered her head between my thighs and licked along my wet slit making me gasp with shock and pleasure. I felt my bum tighten and raised my hips without thought as she swept her tongue and lips over me. She delved into the folds and I could feel myself trembling, vibrating as I would shatter from the need for more. When I thought I could take no more of her ministrations and survive; it started. The oddest pressure began to course through me, my skin quivered and I felt as if I could fly free from the body that she was devouring.

I heard moaning and panting only to be shocked into awareness that those sounds were of my own making. I suddenly felt awash with shame that I should be acting in such a manner.

Briefly distracted by my own discomfort I glanced away and saw our reflections in the glass. Mine was clear and it only enhanced my wish I would wake from this dream before; before what I thought? It was only a dream and come day light it would be nothing but a memory. I felt my eyes begin to drift and told myself that I should think of nothing, just let these strange new sensations carry me away….but wait, her reflection was dark and muddied.

This oddity drew my attention back to the glass and I narrowed my eyes in an attempt to see better but that was not to be.

She must have sensed my growing distraction and increased her attentions. Shutting my eyes I again felt the pressure build and gripped a fistful of her hair with one hand while the other clung to the nearest thing I could find. Clenching the sheet I felt that I should die for no human body was meant to undergo these sweet agonies of passion.

Just as I thought I could take no more; she sucked on my pearl and thrust two fingers into my virgin sex. Shaking and gasping I threw my legs around her shoulders and begged for release. I felt myself on the precipice of something wholly animal and yet utterly divine. Instead her tongue flicked back and forth driving me to further heights of delirium. There would be no escape this night. She nibbled, sucked, pulled and licked until I felt myself begin to quake with spasms. I shuddered as the passion built until everything began to clench and pull with my heart pounding in time to it. Suddenly I felt a rush of heat spill out of me while my legs and belly continued to twitch.

One last flick of her tongue and I was screaming out my release; head thrown back I felt but did not see what caused the sudden sharp pain. Breasts heaving from my excitement I brought my own hands up and stroked them while looking at her. Her mouth was still lost between my legs and soft sucking sounds found my ears. I pulled on my nipples and rolled my hips while she continued with her tongue. So very gently I felt it roll around my pressing on my lips and lapping at my wet slit.

Minor shocks still coursed up my torso as she continued the torment but when her eyes flicked up to meet mine I was briefly frightened by what I saw. I had only a moment before she fluttered her lids closed but I was sure of what I saw. Her eyes, those beautiful fathomless eyes were still the same glowing green but her black pupils had appeared red.


	3. Chapter 3

I was very nervous for a long time after this. Plagued as I was with anxiety and becoming fearful of sleep my father grew worried. I tried to ease his fears by telling him I must simply learn not to read before sleep. The candles must have grown low and I was simply drawn by the full moon in order to calm my nerves as the literature had proved too stimulating to lull me to slumber. Yet in truth I was more disturbed by the previous night than I cared to admit. How had I left my bed? By what means did I arrive in such a condition exposed to the night air? Why did I dream of a woman with luminous green eyes shining in the lamp light? I am sure the maid was more than shocked to discover me naked and sleeping outdoors. I prevailed upon her to tell no one but my words were overheard by my old nurse. Insisting I take a hot bath, eat my morning meal in bed and not stray from my chamber; Nurse stalked out to inform my father the nightmares had come again.

Yet even though I felt the consuming need to curl up for a nap I grew dismayed; would I walk in my sleep again perhaps to my death? After the first dream I had others which were equally erotic. In the past two weeks I had three such nightmares and while they were most pleasant while I was dreaming each time I awoke in place I should not be

A doctor was called in, he was pallid and elderly. How well I remember his long saturnine face, slightly pitted with smallpox, and his chestnut wig. I could not help but be cheered by his visits for his countenance and wig reminded me of my favorite pony now aged and retired to pasture. For a good while, every second day, he came and gave me medicine, which of course I hated. Thick, noxious and sticky I dreaded having to swallow it but like a good patient I did as I was bidden. Thankfully that vile potion appeared to work since months passed in which I had only the sweetest of dreams which left me content and rested each morning.

I am now going to tell you something so strange that it will require all your faith in my veracity to believe my story. It is not only true, nevertheless, but truth of which I have been an eyewitness.

It was a sweet summer evening, and my father asked me, as he sometimes did, to take a little ramble with him along that beautiful forest vista which I have mentioned as lying in front of the castle.

"General Spielsdorf cannot come to us as soon as I had hoped," said my father, as we pursued our walk. "As you know, he was to have paid us a visit of some weeks, and I had expected his arrival two days hence."

As we slowed our pace I turned to admire the disgruntled ducks arguing amongst the river bank reeds. Glancing back at Papa it seemed he was looking inward and did not care for whatever vision had captured his attention. We stood for some moments together without speaking.

I felt his attempt at conservation was causing him some distress. His normally calm visage was drawn and unhappy. He seemed at a loss for words which was most unlike him and to bring him comfort I softly clasped his hand and waited intending only to provide him the time to find the words he sought to convey.

Clearing his throat he continued on in a subdued tone, "He was to have brought with him a young lady, his niece and ward, Mademoiselle Rheinfeldt, whom I had never seen, but whom I had heard described as a very charming girl, and in whose society I had believed you would have had many happy days of companionship."

His eyes closed for a moment blowing out his cheeks then gave my hand a gentle squeeze. I wondered what could be so very distressing about a visit but briefly delayed? As I waited the trees shifted in the breeze and for the briefest of moments it seemed my dear father had aged from the burden he carried.

I can confess that I was more disappointed than a young lady living in a town, or a bustling neighborhood can possibly imagine by this news. This visit, and the new acquaintance it promised, had furnished my day dream for many weeks. I was most disappointed for I longed to make a new friend of my own age.

"And how soon does he come?" I asked.

"Not till autumn. Not for two months or more, I dare say," he answered. "And I am very glad now, dear heart, that you never knew Mademoiselle Rheinfeldt."

"And why?" I asked, both mortified and curious.

"Because the poor young lady is dead," he replied. "I quite forgot I had not told you, but you were not in the room when I received the General's letter this evening. I did not wish to broach this news over dinner for I knew how much you looked forward to this visit."

I was very much shocked. I recalled that General Spielsdorf had mentioned in his first letter, six or seven weeks before, that she was not so well as he would wish her, but there was nothing to suggest the remotest suspicion of danger or impending death.

We sat down on a rude stone bench, under a group of magnificent lime trees. The sun was setting with all its' melancholy splendor behind the sylvan horizon, and the stream that flows beside our home, and passes under the steep old bridge I have mentioned, wound through many a stand of noble trees, almost at our feet, reflecting in its current the fading crimson of the sky. I gazed at the water shimmering in the scarlet sunset and mourned the loss of a friend not met. My thoughts grew distant, my hearing became muffled and an odd sensation of being apart from my very being suffused my body.

"Here is the General's letter," he said, holding it out to me. "I am afraid he is in the greatest of affliction; the letter appears to me to have been written in complete distraction."

I heard his words but they broached my ears as if from a great distance. My father was holding out the letter for my consideration but still I refrained from taking it for I had only then noted that glints of fading sun and sky drew red patterns on the waters' surface. They appeared to trail along the reeds as if seeking to kiss my boots with blood stained lips.

I kicked my toes forward to float them through the dark light to deny the very thought of mortality until a dawning sense of danger made me withdraw away from a prickle of icy cold thrumming up my calves as if my life's blood was being drawn down to course along the stream with the fading rays of light.

It was not his words I eventually heeded but rather the plucking of my sleeve as he tried to gain my attention. I was drawn from my stupor by my father placing the letter into my hands with the gentle suggestion that I take care not to grow distressed by the contents. General Spielsdorf's letter was so extraordinary, so vehement, and in some places so self-contradictory, that I read it twice over—the second time aloud to my father—and was still unable to account for it, except by supposing that grief had unsettled his mind.

It said "I have lost my darling daughter, for as such I loved her. During the last days of dear Bertha's illness I was not able to write to you. Before then I had no idea of her danger. I have lost her, and now learn _all_, too late. She died in the peace of innocence, and in the glorious hope of a blessed futurity. The unholy fiend who betrayed our infatuated hospitality has done it all. I thought I was receiving into my house innocence, gaiety, a charming companion for my lost Bertha. Dear God what a fool I have been!"

At this point I admit a brief struggle as the dear Generals penmanship had begun to deteriorate. Anguish had shaken him crippling his hand. Yet his next words sent a chill across the nape of my neck even though there was no wind to be felt.

"I thank God my child died without a suspicion of the cause of her sufferings. She has gone without so much as a moment's conjecture regarding the true nature of her illness, and the accursed passion of the agent of all this misery. I will now devote my remaining days to tracking and extinguishing a monster. The very monster that I; to my unending shame and with all courtesy invited into my home. I dare to hope to accomplish my righteous and merciful purpose. At present there is scarcely a gleam of light to guide me. I curse my conceited incredulity, my despicable affectation of superiority, my blindness, my obstinacy—all—too late. She is gone. Lost to me forever and I am responsible for it was I that invited death in. I opened the door and bade it welcome. I cannot write or talk collectedly now."

"I am destroyed in my grief. Soon as I shall find myself to have recovered, I mean to devote myself for a time to enquiry. I have learned some dark facts recently and my agents have given me the name of a gentleman that may provide more assistance. I make haste in my preparations and leave within a fortnight to Spain consulting with someone that may aid me in my quest with more information. I have also ordered secret inquiries to track this creature. Come autumn, three months hence, or earlier if I live, I will see you—that is, if you permit me; I will then tell you all that I scarce dare put upon paper now. Farewell. Pray for me, dear friend nay pray for us all, for if I fail darkness may come to more innocents."

In these terms ended this strange letter. Though I had never seen Bertha Rheinfeldt my eyes filled with tears at the anguish expressed by her father and the loss of a girl who would have been a cheerful companion for me.

The sun had now set, and it was twilight by the time I had returned the General's letter to my father. It was a soft clear evening, and we loitered, speculating upon the possible meanings of the violent and incoherent sentences which I had just been reading. We had nearly a mile to walk before reaching the road that passes in front of the castle, and by the time we neared home the moon was shining brilliantly.

At the drawbridge we met Madame Perrodon and Mademoiselle De Lafontaine, who had both come out, without their bonnets, to enjoy the exquisite moonlight.

We heard their voices chirping in animated dialogue as we approached. Joining them at the drawbridge, we turned about to admire the beautiful scene. The glade through which we had just walked lay behind us, the grass shivering in the moons rays. At our left the narrow road wound away darkly under clumps of lordly trees, and was quickly lost to sight amid the thickening forest. At our right the same road crosses the steep and picturesque bridge, near which stands a ruined tower which once guarded that pass; and beyond the bridge an abrupt earthen mound rises, covered with trees, and showing in the shadows some grey ivy-clustered rocks.

I took the greatest measure of appreciation in the beauty before me. Letting my eyes wander over the sward and low grounds where a thin film of mist was stealing like liquid smoke, marking the distances with a transparent veil; and here and there I could see the river faintly flashing in the moonlight. No softer, sweeter scene could be imagined. Then I remembered the Generals disturbing letter of loss and anguish. Speaking of monsters as if they roamed the countryside; it appeared the poor General had lost his senses completely! The news I had just heard made the meadow appear melancholy; but nothing could disturb its character of profound serenity, and the enchanted glory and vagueness of the prospect that tomorrow would bring. My father, who enjoyed the scenery, and I, stood looking in silence over the expanse beneath us. The two good governesses, standing a little way behind us, discoursed upon the scene, and were eloquent upon the limpid grace of the moon.

Madame Perrodon was portly, middle-aged, and relentlessly romantic, talked and sighed poetically. Mademoiselle De Lafontaine- who was much in temperament like her father, a German scientist assumed to be psychological, metaphysical, and something of a mystic—now declared that when the moon shone with a light so intense it was well known that it indicated a special spiritual activity. The effect of the full moon in such a state of brilliancy was manifold. It acted on dreams, it acted on lunacy, it acted on nervous people, and it had marvelous physical influences connected with life. Mademoiselle related that her cousin, who was mate on a merchant ship, having taken a nap on deck on such a night, lying on his back, with his face full in the light on the moon, had wakened, after a dream of an old woman clawing him by the cheek, with his features horribly drawn to one side; and his countenance had never quite recovered its equilibrium.

"The moon, this night," she said, "is full of idyllic and magnetic influence—and see, when you look behind you at the front of the castle how all its windows flash and twinkle with that silvery splendor, as if unseen hands had lighted up the rooms to receive fairy guests."

There are indolent styles of the spirits in which, indisposed to talk ourselves, the talk of others is pleasant to our listless ears; and I gazed on, pleased with the tinkle of the ladies' conversation.

"I have got into one of my moping moods tonight," said my father, after a silence, and quoting Shakespeare, whom, by way of keeping up our English, he used to read aloud, he said:

"In truth I know not why I am so sad. It wearies me: you say it wearies you; but how I got it—came by it.' I forget the rest. But I feel as if some great misfortune were hanging over us. I suppose the poor General's afflicted letter has had something to do with it."

Clasping his hands behind his back he sighed in weariness. Trying to lighten his mood a bit I thought to engage him in a game we used to play. He would offer a quote and I was expected to reply with another of the great bards' lines.

I leaned against him and said impishly, "ah see Papa how the moon shines, something wicked this way comes".

He gave a wan grin and said, "Dearest to my heart perhaps not the most appropriate of choices given the circumstances. The General seemed most disturbed and I fear he may have developed a sickness of the mind. Tis as if he sees evil around every corner. Let us leave this for now. I feel the need to be within on this night."

He crooked his arm for me to join him on the walk back to the castle when he said, "do you hear that?"

At this moment the unwanted sound of fast carriage wheels and many hooves pounding upon the road, arrested our attention. They seemed to be approaching from the high ground overlooking the bridge, and very soon the equipage emerged from that point. Two horsemen first crossed the bridge, their black mounts shining with froth along the bridles. They were closely followed by a carriage drawn by four pale gray horses with two more darkly mounted horsemen close behind. It was a breathtaking sight for the shadowy carriage horse's sported black manes and tails with equally dark leather traces bisecting their luminous flanks.

My first thought was not of the danger that such a frantic speed might mean but rather the extravagant cost of purchasing and maintaining a matched set of carriage horses and outriders. An equestrian turn out like that meant one thing; a great deal of wealth! If not minor royalty at the very least aristocracy for I doubted even the most extravagant merchant would be so negligent to risk such fine horses. My father had always said that those who had worked for their coppers were more mindful of their property.

My father must have shared my thoughts for he said "It must be the traveling carriage of a person of rank although for the life of me I can't imagine where they think they are racing to. They cannot pass anywhere once they cross the bridge."

With that statement we were all immediately absorbed in watching this most unusual spectacle. It became, in a few moments, greatly more interesting, for just as the carriage had passed the summit of the steep bridge, one of the lead horses, took fright in the rising mist as his feet slipped on the vapor slicked cobblestones. Squealing his panic to the rest he thrashed attempting to regain his footing. The riders sensed the horses fear and attempted to pull them up too quickly. The carriage horses began to wrench out of balance as they tried to avoid slamming into the slowed outriders.

A plunge or two later, the whole team broke into a wild uncontrolled gallop, and dashing between the horsemen who rode in front, the coach and four came thundering along the road towards us with the speed of a hurricane. The excitement of the scene was made more disturbing by the clear, clarion screams of a female voice from the carriage window.

We all advanced in curiosity and horror; myself in breathless silence, the rest with various ejaculations of terror. Our suspense did not last long. Just before you reach the castle drawbridge, on the route they were coming, there stands by the roadside a magnificent lime tree, on the other stands an ancient stone cross. As they caught sight of the immovable crucifix the horses, now going at a pace that was perfectly frightful, swerved so as to bring the wheel over the projecting roots of the tree. I knew what was coming. The die had been cast and there was no undoing the impending crash.

I covered my eyes, unable to see it out, and turned my head away; at the same moment I heard a cry from my lady friends, who had gone on a little closer. Curiosity opened my eyes, and I saw a scene of utter confusion. The two closest horses to the driver's platform lay on the ground thrashing in distress while the lead animals danced back and forth trying to flee their restraints. The carriage lay upon its side with two wheels spinning in the air. Two men were busy removing the traces while the others attempted to restrain and calm the two lead horses. The driver and a footman were standing off to one side holding the reins for the remaining four mounts.

As my eyes swept the scene I was drawn to a lone figure; still and remote standing off to one side. It was a fine looking lady with a commanding air and I assumed she was the one who had issued that piercing scream as the carriage left the road. Now she stood composed with clasped hands, raising the handkerchief that was in them every now and then to her eyes. Yet curiously I noted for all her distress she displayed no sign of impending tears. I quickly thought myself uncharitable for my thoughts and decided she must be attempting to remove dust that was distressing her vision.

Two of our footmen reached the carriage door and propped it open. Reaching inside to another passenger perhaps? I prayed no one was injured as I watched one man climb in while the other shifted from foot to foot peering into the dark. Sadly a person had been hurt and I clutched at my father as I watched. Through the carriage door was lifted a young lady, who appeared to be lifeless. My dear old father approached the elder lady, with his hat in his hand, evidently tendering his aid and the resources of his castle. The lady did not appear to hear him, or to have eyes for anything but the slender girl who was being placed against the slope of the bank. I approached; the young lady was apparently stunned, but she was certainly not dead. My father, who fancied himself being something of a physician, had just had his fingers on her wrist and assured the lady, who declared herself her mother, that her pulse, though faint and irregular, was undoubtedly still distinguishable. The lady clasped her hands and looked upward, as if in a momentary transport of gratitude; but immediately she broke out again in that theatrical way which is, I believe, natural to some people.

She was what is called a fine looking woman for her time of life, and must have been quite handsome in her youth; she was taller than average, but not thin, and dressed entirely in black damask and velvet. She looked rather pale, but with a proud and commanding countenance, though now agitated strangely.

"Who was ever so born to calamity?" I heard her say, with gloved hands fluttering about. I came up slowly so as not to startle her further. This remarkable creature draped in black lamented, "Here am I, on a journey of life and death, which to lose an hour is possibly to lose all. My child will not have recovered sufficiently to resume her route for who can say how long. I must leave her, for I cannot; nay dare not delay another moment. How far on, sir, can you tell, is the nearest village? I must leave her there; and shall not see my darling, or even hear of her till my return, three months hence."

I plucked my father by the coat, and whispered earnestly in his ear: "Oh! Papa, pray ask her to let her stay with us—it would be so delightful. Do, pray."

I watched as my father bowed most regally to the lady in black and he said, "If Madame will entrust her child to the care of my daughter, and of her good governess, Madame Perrodon, and permit her to remain as our guest, under my charge, until your return, it will confer a distinction and an obligation upon us, and we shall treat her with all the care and devotion which so sacred a trust deserves."

"I cannot do that, sir, it would be to task your kindness and chivalry too cruelly," said the lady, distractedly.

"It would, on the contrary, be to confer on us a very great kindness at the moment when we most need it" my father said in gentle earnestness. He lowered his voice and continued on, "My daughter has just been disappointed by a cruel misfortune, in a visit from which she had long anticipated a great deal of happiness. If you confide this young lady to our care it will be her best consolation. The nearest village on your route is distant, and affords no such inn as you could think of placing your gentle daughter at; you cannot allow her to continue her journey for any considerable distance without danger. If, as you say, you cannot suspend your journey, you must part with her tonight, and nowhere could you do so with more honest assurances of care and tenderness than here."

There was something in this lady's air and appearance so distinguished and even imposing, in her manner so engaging, as to impress one, quite apart from the dignity of her equipage, with a conviction that she was a person of the highest consequence. By this time the carriage was replaced in its upright position, and the horses, quite calm and apparently uninjured were harnessed.

The lady threw on her daughter a glance which I fancied was not quite so affectionate as one might have anticipated from the beginning of the scene; then she beckoned slightly to my father, and withdrew two or three steps with him out of hearing; and talked to him with a fixed and stern countenance, not at all like that with which she had hitherto spoken.

I was filled with wonder that my father did not seem to perceive the change, and also unspeakably curious to learn what it could be that she was speaking, almost in his ear, with so much earnestness and rapidity.

Two or three minutes at most I think she remained thus engaged, then she turned abruptly, and a few steps brought her to where her daughter lay, supported by Madame Perrodon. She kneeled beside her daughter for only a moment and whispered, as Madame supposed, a little benediction in her ear; then hastily kissing her she stepped into her carriage, the door was closed, the

Footmen in their stately liveries jumped up behind, the outriders spurred on their mounts while the air cracked with the sound of whips. The horses leaped forward and broke suddenly into a furious canter that threatened soon again to become a gallop. The carriage spirited away as quickly as it had arrived, followed at the same rapid pace by the two horsemen in the rear.

We followed the _cortege _with our eyes until it was swiftly lost to sight in the misty wood; and the very sound of hoof beats and the wheels died away in the silent night air. Nothing remained to assure us that the adventure had not been an illusion of a moment but the young lady, who just at that moment opened her eyes with the softest of moans. I could not see, for her face was turned from me, but she raised her head, evidently looking about her, and I heard a very sweet voice ask complainingly, "Where is Mamma?"

Our good Madame Perrodon answered tenderly, adding some comfortable assurances. I then heard her ask: "Where am I? What is this place?" and after that she said, "I don't see the carriage; and Palmira, where is she?"

Madame answered all her questions in so far as she understood them; and gradually the young lady remembered how the misadventure came about, and was glad to hear that no one in, or in attendance on, the carriage was hurt. On learning that her mamma had left her here, till her return in about three months, she wept silent tears.

I was going to add my consolations to those of Madame Perrodon when Mademoiselle De Lafontaine placed her hand upon my arm, saying: "Don't approach my child, one at a time is as much as she can at present converse with; a very little excitement would possibly overpower her now."

As soon as she is comfortably in bed, I thought, I will run up to her room and see her. While the circumstances of her arrival were a bit bizarre I admit not being above finding a petty pleasure in it. For now even if only for a short time I might find myself with an agreeable companion of my own age.

My father in the meantime had sent a servant on horseback for the physician, who lived about two leagues away; and a bedroom was being prepared for the young lady's reception. The stranger now rose, and leaning on Madame's arm, walked slowly over the drawbridge and into the castle gate. I was in a state of excitement with all that had happened and longed to engage our new guest in conversation but refrained from stressing her further. Father and I walked behind the three ladies into the main entrance taking care not incite further drama upon the situation. In the hall, servants waited to receive her, and she was conducted forthwith to her room with much concern for her tired state.

I stood on the flagged stone floor and watched as she was led up the main staircase. It must have been obvious even to my father's aging eyes that the servants moved slowly in order to aid our new guest as she negotiated the stairs. I dared not hope she would join us for dinner and with an unusual sense of disappointment followed my father into comforting warmth of the drawing room.

The drawing room has always been my favorite in the castle. It is long, having five windows along the outside wall. A large hearth is offset ten feet beyond the entrance on the inside wall while the others are lined with book shelves which have allowed me many a pleasant afternoon spent reading during a rainy day. The large center window offered the added comfort of a built in seat and looked over the moat and drawbridge, upon the forest scene I have already described. The space is furnished in old carved oak, with large carved cabinets, and the chairs are cushioned with crimson and burgundy Utrecht velvet. Just inside the door the side of hearth wall is covered with a brilliantly worked tapestry, and surrounded with great gold frames with paintings of various sizes. The tapestry figures being as large as life, in ancient and very curious costume, and the subjects represented are hunting, hawking, and generally festive. The paintings are both ones that were left behind from generations of previous castle inhabitants and those of our own ancestors.

It is not too stately to be extremely comfortable; and here we had our tea, for with his usual patriotic leanings he insisted that the national beverage should make its appearance regularly with our coffee and chocolate. As I sipped at my steaming tea my gaze was drawn to my favorite painting which hangs over the mantle. It depicts my mother in the Italian seaside. Unlike the smaller portrait in my room which was done only months before she died this one was much larger. A few years back I had queried Papa on the portraits history. It had been done during the summer months when my parents were in Italy. My father had said he had not wanted to leave her behind while he was away on a trade mission.

The artist had captured her standing before an open window and the delicate architecture of the buildings behind her highlighted her flawless bone structure. My father had said the artist was not one that was highly sought even though his skill was comparable with Rafael and Botticelli for he had shown my mother laughing with delight and self contentment. I had asked Papa why she had been portrayed with an open mouthed expression of joy since never had I seen a portrait like it. All the others in the Castle showed women with slight smiles of genteel superiority, smug in their knowledge of position and entitlement. I remember when I had expressed my curiosity about it that Father had suddenly drawn his gaze inward and a wistful smile had creased his lips. I had waited for him to respond but he seemed lost in a memory which gave him great happiness.

Then he said, "Your dear Mama; I loved her beyond all sense of reason and decorum. We had resolved to spend a few weeks enjoying the coastal delights and one afternoon I learned the artist was in residence repairing frescos in a local church. He agreed to undertake the commission to paint your mother."

Sighing in memory he gazed at the portrait and stepped forward. Lightly running his fingers across her face he said, "The sketches were complete and one morning your Mama had gone sightseeing with a few friends. She was late returning for the afternoon portrait sitting. It was to be the fourth sitting during the formal painting process. I recall I was chatting on the balcony when your mother arrived breathless and apologetic. She was about to change into the dress she had chosen for the sitting when the artist suggested he be allowed to paint her as she was; a young woman, happy and content in her life without the trappings and airs that she was expected to don when she moved through society."

"The artist was working on his easel and your mother was telling me of her day the churches she had seen and the small temple of Diana she had toured when the strangest look crossed her face. I had begun to stand to see if she was alright when her eyes began to shine and she threw back her head laughing. I was a bit confused for I could see no reason that she would suddenly erupt in elation and I looked towards the artist who stood with his brush frozen and eyebrows drawn down."

Father paused and then laughed himself, "she dropped one hand onto her belly and her eyes glistened with tears. Then she gasped out 'Darling husband, she lives. This one shall survive and live to be an old woman. I feel there are angels in the room and they shall see her safe' and without thought I swept her into my arms and laughed along with her."

Watching him I wondered for a moment if I would be so lucky in my marriage to have a love that knew no boundaries. Still gazing at my mother's face he continued, "You see your mother had um, shall we say several misfortunes and each time her heart was undone by it. I knew she carried a child and feared that if she lost another while I was away she might entertain fantasies of self harm. So against the physicians orders I took her with me to keep her safe hoping against hope this time would be different. And it was for we were blessed with you my dear."

Watching him through misty eyes I saw him step back and wipe a tear from one eye.

"You see my dear child it was on that day that you announced your presence to your mother. Once we were done expressing our bliss for this happy information through gentle words we realized the artist had taken his leave to give us the privacy to embrace our happiness. We spent the next few days walking throughout the city and reveling in our mutual delight giving not a thought to the commissioned painting. The day before we were to depart back to Venice the artist arrived with a few apprentices and requested an interview. He was promptly admitted and explained that he had undertaken to complete the work and wished to submit it for our approval. He placed the wrapped parcel on the wooden chest nearest the window and explained that although the work was not within the purview of current standards he felt that it should be a source of pleasure for any who gazed upon it. However if it failed to please us he would change the expression on Madame's face to conform to the expectations of the day. Mama and I waited as an apprentice began to untie the twine holding the wrapping in place. I recall when the wrapping was removed I gasped aloud. The poor artist began to fumble with his words misunderstanding my reaction however in just a moment later I was shaking his hand offering my sincere delight in his work. Instead of the typical static figure your Mama was alight with happiness. The figure in the painting seemed alive as if one was catching a glimpse of her throw a window. She radiated joy and wonder through every stroke of the artists brush. He had captured a singular moment in time unlike any painting I had ever seen before."

I gazed upon my mother's portrait and once again wished I'd had more time with her.

Sending her a silent message of love I turned my attention away from memories and to my father who seemed more subdued than usual as we sat here this night. I asked his opinion of the day's events and with candles lit, we sat in mutual fondness talking over the adventure of the evening when I again felt that odd, queer chill traipse down the back of my neck. It was the first time I had felt it while being truly sure I was awake. The sensation as I recall was much like what one would expect should a ghost reach out to trail cool fingers along one's nape.

My father noted my sudden shiver but not my sense of unease. He kindly rose and placed another log on the fire no doubt assuming the chill of the night had brought on my trembling.

Turning to me as if to ascertain my comfort he parted his lips to speak when a strange sound stopped him from voicing his concern. I could not identify what my ears strained to recognize and his face showed equal puzzlement. We turned as one to the central window opposite the fireplace and stilled as a deer would upon the approach of a predator. Not knowing why but breathless all the same we stood motionless and silent, waiting. Waiting, for something was coming but we knew not what. I stared at the darkness pressing against the glass and felt something evil and unseen in the night looking back at us.

It lurked just beyond the reach of the torches and shied from the light. The rational intelligent part of me knew that I was making a fantasy out of the strangeness of the evening while my skin prickled with the knowledge that something was there; waiting with an unholy hunger and I did not have see it to know it was there.

My entire being twitched with recognition that I was prey for the beast that was without mercy. I could feel my heart begin to rabbit about in my chest as if it would break free to save itself. My legs began to shudder with the urge to run even as I felt my hairline grow damp with tension and fear. I tried jostling my mind into recalling that I was safe within the castle walls; nothing could touch me here and yet still my skin prickled with nerves.

Then even closer the sound rippled across the glass; strange and unknown it pierced the night. It was a cry of some sort. A song of longing which seemed to waft through the air but how I knew I cannot say. It was not a musical note, nor a voice rising in a joyful hymn that I recognized but something ethereal and otherworldly. I felt a distinct strangeness in my limbs and inexplicably longed to move closer to the sound. I felt torn. My body rebelled in revulsion and fear while something I could not name pulled me closer still; as if this animal and I shared some bond of loneliness. The angst of unfulfilled dreams and desires seemed all too understandable.

When it came at first neither of us knew what to make of it. I cast my eyes towards my father as the night cries sounded again and realized that while he had remained stationary I had not for he was no longer at my side. Without feeling my feet shift their position I had moved across the room and now stood a hands span from the thin glass that separated me from the darkness. I cannot explain my actions nor give cause for my movement. Not moving my position from the window we locked eyes through our reflections on the night seared glass.

My father's image appeared the same as in a mirror but I was distressed that mine showed me paler than in truth I was. The sound waxed and waned but still we could not turn away. I raised my right hand as if I could tease the sound out by touching the glass itself but fear lanced through me and I withdrew my fingers.

The call came yet again, louder and more triumphant then was cut off as if the animal wished to hide its location. My unease deepened and yet in that last burst of song I felt a sudden rush of molten heat flare up through my body leaving wicks of pain as they passed. Strange ululating cries next came from the forest to the east. It reached our ears seeming different and far closer than the first unnerving sounds. It was a clarion call and for some unknown reason I sensed that it was a call to battle. I strained my ears to identify the sound but could not. All I could surmise was that it was not a lone creature that now announced its' presence in the dark but rather marshalling forces that sought the death of some other animal in the night.

I saw this latest oratory volley had stunned my father nearly into a chair as he moved forward. Blindly and without thought he stretched out one hand to clasp mine and sighed "Wolves my darling. Can you imagine? Like the days of old when brave men hunted the forest not only for food but to keep their families safe. Although I cannot recall every hearing stories that they ever threatened a human unless the animal was ill. It was and still is the boar that is dangerous. If a rider or child was to cross paths with a boar it meant a gruesome death. Violently aggressive they were the favorite target of royal hunting parties. My father always told me that wolves had kept the boars from taking over the woodlands. This was why he mourned the fact that England had hunted the wolf out of existence. Even here after all the years I've lived in this country I've never laid eyes upon a wolf. I used to wonder myself if they had fled into the far north. I had always hoped they would find a way to co-exist with us and I admit that I'm pleased to find they have not disappeared altogether. Yet still it is most strange. Wolves have not been seen in this region for three generations if not more. How very odd to hear them now; one can only speculate what has drawn them back to the region."

I found myself listening to him as if underwater where sound ebbs and flows with the current. The spell was broken when dinner was announced. Father smiled at me and said "ah my darling girl, if only I was a younger man I may just ride out to have a look and see if they are as fearsome as legend would have."

For my fathers' comfort I smiled back as I shook off the dark dream that seemed to come with the wolves. Arm in arm we walked in silent companionship to the dining room. Yet still I wondered-why had they returned? What were they hunting? Even more unsettling was the realization that the wolf song was not like the first sounds I had heard. Those first bits had been unlike anything I had ever heard before; more primal even ancient and I feared that creature far more than the wolves.

Madame Perrodon and Mademoiselle De Lafontaine were both of our party that evening. The young stranger had hardly lain down in her bed when she sank into a deep sleep; and those ladies had left her in the care of a servant. Father stopped at the dining room entrance to speak to the butler but gestured for me to continue on without him. He was so indulgent of his only child for he knew I was most anxious to hear more of our new mysterious house guest and would quickly engage the other ladies in my curiosity. I was also most eager to shake off the icy chill that had spiked my back when I heard those nocturnal screams.

I stepped in and took quiet pleasure in the dark wood paneling on the walls, the gleam of silver and plate. Yet I was most pleasured by the party which arrived just after I had taken my seat for I had many questions.

"How do you like our guest?" I asked, as soon as Madame entered."Tell me all about her."

"I like her extremely well," answered Madame, "she is, I almost think, the prettiest creature I ever saw; about your age, and so gentle and nice."

"She is absolutely beautiful," threw in Mademoiselle, who had peeped for a moment into the stranger's room.

"And such a sweet voice!" added Madame Perrodon.

"Did you remark a woman in the carriage, after it was set up again, who did not get out," inquired Mademoiselle, "but only looked from the window?"

I looked at Madame and shook my head and so she replied for us both.

"No, it appears neither of us saw her. Pray do tell us what caught your attention about her."

Mademoiselle glanced towards the door but once she felt assured none were about to enter she leaned forward and frowned. "I could not help looking at her for her very stare was one of strangled fury."

Then she described a hideous hard faced woman, with a sort of colored cloth on her head, and who was gazing all the time from the carriage window, nodding and grinning derisively towards the ladies, with gleaming black eyes, her teeth set as if in fury.

Mademoiselle said, "I could scarce remove my eyes from her. She had pretty skin the color of oak with these large gold earrings but her face was twisted in a most unnerving fashion. As if hate and jealousy had robbed her of something. Her face also seemed rather wide and flat and I was startled to note that when she saw me staring she stood up and bared her teeth at me like an animal. Her dress was most strange not lady like at all. Her clothing was fitted tightly to her body but she had these bony little legs supporting a torso that make me think of a barrel."

She laughed a bit nervously and continued, "I suppose if I looked like I had been assembled out of unwanted spare parts I would not have much to smile about either."

Madame asked, "Was she Romany, some sort of Gypsy perhaps?"

"No she was unlike anything I have ever seen. A most odd visage and yet I cannot help but wonder why she had a young boys clothing on when there is no doubt she was female for I noted a small bosom on her."

"Did you remark what an ill-looking pack of men the servants were?" asked Madame.

"Yes," said my father, who had just come in, "ugly, hatched faced looking fellows as ever I had the misfortune to gaze upon in my life. I hope they mayn't rob the poor lady in the forest. They are clever rogues, however; they got everything to rights in a minute."

"I dare say they are worn out with too long traveling," said Madame.

"Besides looking wicked, their faces were so strangely lean, dark and sullen. I am very curious, I own; but I dare say the young lady will tell you all about it tomorrow, if she is sufficiently recovered."

"I don't think she will," said my father, with a mysterious smile, and a little nod of his head, as if he knew more about it than he cared to tell us.

This made us all the more inquisitive as to what had passed between him and the lady in the black velvet, in the brief but earnest interview that had immediately preceded her departure. We had just been served our soup, when I entreated him to tell me. He did not need much pressing.

"There is no particular reason why I should not tell you. She expressed a reluctance to trouble us with the care of her daughter, saying she was in delicate health, and nervous, but not subject to any kind of seizure—she volunteered that—nor to any illusion; being, in fact, perfectly normal in all her manners and not the least bit insane."

"How very odd, to say all that!" I interpolated. "It was so unnecessary."

"At all events it _was _said," he laughed, "and as you wish to know all that passed, which was indeed very little, I shall tell you. She then said, 'I am making a long journey of _vital _importance—she emphasized the words—rapid and secret; I shall return for my child in three months; in the meantime, she will be silent as to who we are, whence we come, and whither we are traveling.'

"That is all she said. She spoke very pure French. When she said the word 'secret,' she paused for a few seconds, looking sternly, her eyes fixed on mine. I fancy she makes a great point of secrecy and was expressing the importance of my need for discretion. You saw how quickly she was gone. I hope I have not done a very foolish thing, in taking charge of the young lady."

For my part, I was delighted. I was longing to see and talk to her; and only waiting till the doctor should give me leave. You, who live in towns, can have no idea how great an event the introduction of a new friend is, as for those who reside in rural splendor I have no doubt you understand that in such solitude as surrounded us any diversion is greeted with great excitement.

The doctor did not arrive till nearly one o'clock; but I could no more have gone to my bed and slept, than I could have overtaken, on foot, the carriage in which the princess in black velvet had driven away. When the physician came down to the drawing room, it was to report very favorably upon his patient. She was now sitting up, her pulse quite regular, apparently perfectly well. She had sustained no injury, and the little shock to her nerves had passed away quite harmlessly. There could be no harm certainly in my seeing her, if we both wished it. I sent a servant to her to see if she would grant me permission, forthwith, as to whether she would allow me to visit her for a few minutes in her room before retiring to my own chamber for a long awaited sleep.

The servant returned immediately to say that she desired nothing more. You may be sure I was not long in availing myself of this invitation. Our visitor lay in one of the handsomest rooms in the castle. It was, perhaps, a little stately. There was a somber piece of tapestry hung opposite the bed, representing Cleopatra with the asps to her bosom; and other solemn classic scenes were displayed, a little faded, upon the other walls in a series of old religious paintings. But there was gold carving, with rich and varied color enough in the other decorations of the room, to more than redeem the gloom of the old tapestry. There were candles at the bedside bathing her in a warm soft glow. She was sitting up; her slender pretty figure enveloped in the soft silk dressing gown, embroidered with flowers, and lined with thick quilted silk, which her mother had thrown over her feet as she lay upon the ground just a few short hours ago.

What was it that, as I reached the bedside and had just begun my little greeting, I was suddenly struck me dumb for a moment? What can you imagine made me recoil a step or two from before her? I will tell you. I saw the very face which had visited me in my childhood at night so very long ago, which remained so fixed in my memory, and on which I had for so many years so often ruminated with horror, when no one suspected of what I was thinking.

The very same face that lately had appeared in my dreams leaving me limp and exhausted come sunrise. It was pretty, even beautiful; and when I first beheld it, wore the same melancholy expression I remembered. But this almost instantly lighted into a strange fixed smile of recognition. There was a silence of fully a minute, and then at length she spoke; I could not.

"How wonderful!" she exclaimed. "Twelve years ago, I saw your face in a dream, and it has haunted me ever since."

"Wonderful indeed!" I exclaimed, overcoming with an effort the horror that had for a time suspended my utterances. "Twelve years ago, in vision or reality, I certainly saw you. I could not forget your face. It has remained before my eyes ever since." I made no mention of her presence in my recent dreams; it would have been far too shocking for her to hear.

Her smile had softened. Whatever I had fancied strange in it, was gone, and it and her dimpling cheeks were now delightfully pretty and intelligent. I felt reassured, and continued more in the vein which hospitality indicated, to bid her welcome, and to tell her how much pleasure her accidental arrival had given us all, and especially what a happiness it was to me.

I took her hand as I spoke. I was a little shy, as lonely people are, but the situation made me eloquent, and even bold. She pressed my hand, she laid hers upon it, and her eyes glowed, as, looking hastily into mine, she smiled again, and blushed.

She answered my welcome very prettily. I sat down beside her, still wondering; and she said: "I must tell you my vision about you; it is so very strange that you and I should have had, each of the other so vivid a dream, that each should have seen, I you and you me, looking as we do now, when of course we both were mere children. I was a child, about six years old, and I awoke from a confused and troubled dream, and found myself in a room, unlike my nursery, wainscoted clumsily in some dark wood, and with cupboards and bedsteads, and chairs, and benches placed about it. The beds were, I thought, all empty, and the room itself without anyone but myself in it; and I, after looking about me for some time, and admiring especially an iron candlestick with two branches, which I should certainly know again, crept under one of the beds to reach the window; but as I got from under the bed, I heard someone crying; and looking up, while I was still upon my knees, I saw you—most assuredly you—as I see you now; a beautiful young lady, with golden hair and large blue eyes, and lips—your lips—you as you are here."

Her breathing and speech quickened as she continued, "Your looks won me; I climbed on the bed and put my arms about you, and I think we both fell asleep. I was aroused by a scream; you were sitting up screaming. I was frightened, and slipped down upon the ground, and, it seemed to me, lost consciousness for a moment; and when I came to myself, I was again in my nursery at home. Your face I have never forgotten since. I could not be misled by mere resemblance. _You are _the lady whom I saw then."

It was now my turn to relate my corresponding vision, which I did, to the undisguised wonder of my new acquaintance.

"I don't know which should be most afraid of the other," she said, again smiling—"If you were less pretty I think I should be very much afraid of you, but being as you are, and you and I both so young, I feel only that I have made your acquaintance twelve years ago, and have already a right to your intimacy; after all these events it does seem as if we were destined, from our earliest childhood, to be friends. I wonder whether you feel as strangely drawn towards me as I do to you; I have never had a friend—shall I find one now?"

She sighed, and her fine emerald eyes gazed passionately on me. I recall sitting on the bed next to her and gazing deeper into her eyes. They did not seem frightening now. Yes, they remained green but not the glowing color I recalled from my nightmares and other nocturnal situations but rather they were the color of dark moss; the kind that grows on the mightiest of trees. A soft gentle green which was most soothing rimmed in sweeping dark lashes.

Now the truth is, I still felt rather unaccountably attracted towards the beautiful stranger. I did feel, as she said, "drawn towards her," but there was also something of repulsion. I felt that if only I could look away an overwhelming need to flee her presence would take over but it was not to be. In this ambiguous confusion, however, the sense of attraction immensely prevailed. She interested and won me; she was so beautiful and so indescribably engaging. How could I not be fascinated by her very presence?

I perceived now something of languor and exhaustion stealing over her, and hastened to bid her good night. "The doctor thinks," I added, "that you ought to have a maid to sit up with you tonight; one of ours is waiting, and you will find her a very useful and quiet creature."

She shielded her eyes by lowering her lids; shaking her head slightly she spoke.

"How kind of you, but I could not sleep, I never could with an attendant in the room. I shan't require any assistance—and, shall I confess my weakness, I am haunted with a terror of robbers. Our house was robbed once, and two servants most brutally murdered, so I always lock my door. It has become a habit—and you look so kind I know you will forgive me. I see there is a key in the lock."

She glanced over my shoulder and said "once I feel sleep about to overtake me I shall lock the door and that will allow me to have only the most pleasant of dreams."

Her eyes roamed back to mine and for the briefest of moments the flicker of the candles shown reflected in them. I knew it was only an illusion brought about by my exhausted condition and the breeze teasing the flames nearest her bed but I could not shake the idea that in that moment there was a shine and animal brightness to her eyes that had not been there before. After all she had mossy green eyes which could not grown lighter in a darkened room. I had been well tutored and knew this was nothing more than a flight of fancy encouraged by the late hour and excitement of the evening.

Holding my hands she gently pulled me to her bosom clutching me tight. Again my body betrayed me with the need to pull away and flee her presence. Too long I had gone without friends my own age if this is how I reacted to kindness. I chided myself for my behavior and sank into the embrace. She held me close in her pretty arms for a moment and whispered in my ear, "Good night, darling, it is very hard to part with you, but good night; tomorrow, but not early, I shall see you again."

She sank back on the pillow with a sigh, and her fine eyes followed me with a fond and melancholy gaze, and she murmured again "Good night, dear friend."

As the hour was so very late I should have simply retired to my room and leaped into bed but I found myself restless from the evening and the new friendship that was to be mine. Instead I wandered into the bath and was at once grateful that Papa had been so thoughtful to install a heated water delivery for my tub. I did not fully understand how it worked but had been overjoyed once the workmen had gone and found that I no longer had to depend upon servants hauling buckets of water from the kitchen to fill it. Papa had laughed and told me the great Queen Elizabeth had a heated bath and I was deserving of no less.

It was a most modern fixture with shiny copper pipes that ran off into the wall. I turned the taps letting the water splash into the bottom and added some scented oil I had received last Christmas. Closing my eyes I breathed deeply of the delicate scent. Papa had purchased the oil all the way from Egypt and it had taken six months to arrive. Laughing to myself that I was Cleopatra bathing in the great Tudor bath I removed my clothes and sank into the fragrant water. I let the heat sink into my bones and felt a dreamy softness steal away my tensions of the evening. I lay there looking at the candles flicker in the slight breeze from the inner door to my bedchamber and wondered what my life would be like when I was the lady of my own estate. Would I have to move far away from Papa or would he find me a man of good breeding and character but no land? If that were the case I could live here forever and not abandon my dear father. Would my husband be a wonderful man who adored me and gave me happiness or would he be a bore I was chained to for life? Therein lies the rub I thought; for we all wear masks and some hide deeper flaws than others. How would I know if the man I chose was the right one?

I gazed down at myself and thought that any man should be proud to call me his wife.

I could boast of creamy white skin, long strong limbs with a well proportioned body and gentle face. Reaching for the small mirror I held it up in the candlelight and studied my face. Large dark blue eyes with heavy blonde brows that arched across a high forehead stared back at me. Mine and my mothers' for as a young girl I had often sat before her portrait and wondered what she would think of me. Did she miss me? Did she know we shared the same eyes? I could not thank her for much else as I sported my fathers' strong nose and his pale hair. In my mothers' portrait she carried the small delicate nose and finely arched brows that are still considered the height of feminine beauty.

The small portrait of her that hung in my chamber showed a beauty that seemed surreal. Skin so white it resembled moonlight, thick dark red hair and a full-lipped mouth on a long fine neck.

I held up my left hand and considered the long thin fingers. I was sure they must have been like hers as my father had what he called peasant hands; massive thick fingers completely unlike mine but her portrait in the library showed one hand fluttering at her waist so I concluded that I must have gotten my hands from her. At moments like this I missed her terribly and wished I could do more than chatter at her portrait when no one was looking. I cast my eyes around the room and wondered how I would appear to a man; slippery wet and nude, ready to be married. I was more than ready to be loved.

There were moments when I was near Thomas that I felt a drowning desire to throw caution to the wind and beg him to ravish me. It was if my entire being was suffused with the need to strip naked and force him to acknowledge my desires. I blushed when I remembered what Cook had said after she had caught me staring with naked heat on my face as Thomas worked shirtless in hot sun. Normally Cooks' husband split wood and tended the small kitchen garden but he had been laid up with a sprained back. Kind hearted Thomas had volunteered to undertake the additional work.

I had stepped into the kitchen and slammed my shoulder into the door frame as I saw Thomas through the open door; muscles glistening and flexing as he worked. I had thought myself alone so I stayed in the shadows and allowed myself the hidden pleasure of imaging those arms on me; those hands running along my exposed skin. I knew he could not see me as I was within while he in worked in the bright light of the garden. It was not until I heard a soft chuckle that I realized I had company. Cook had been sitting just to my left and I had not seen her when I opened the door. I had been so bewitched by Thomas that I failed to realize she was quietly sitting and reading a letter. I had meant to flee before I could embarrass myself further but she chided me and suggested I take a seat. Cutting my eyes to her I was surprised when she gave me a gentle smile instead of the stern face that I deserved.

In a whisper she said, "Now dear girl, have a listen to what this old woman has to say but only if you promise to keep it to yourself."

Patting the empty spot next to her as a welcome I was encouraged that she would not tell Papa what I had been doing. I did not want him to hear I was behaving in such an indelicate manner. Leaning towards me she clasped my right hand and said, "Now this may not be in line with Church teachings but then again it makes much more sense than to allow young girls to suffer in silence."

She glanced back up and focused on Thomas, "Now truly there stands a fine specimen of a man. I fancy he would be a magnificent ride." She swung round to face me and I was sure she found my slack-jawed face amusing for she laughed softly.

"Now child there is nothing wrong with admiring someone you fancy. A few of the Saints would say that lust is wrong and should be avoided at all costs but if that was to happen many of us would never have been born at all."

Cook told me that she had been advised as a young girl by her own mother that in order to be happy in the marriage bed a girl needed to know her own body. If a lady failed to understand what pleasured her and what did not then she could not convey her needs to her husband.

"Men are simple enough creatures even though they attempt to display a complicated and worldly image. Remember what feels good to you will usually feel good to him and by learning your own body you will learn how to keep him dazzled."

Cook chuckled, "there is also the added benefit of not finding oneself pregnant months before the wedding. No girl should enter the bridal bed terrified and unaware of what lovemaking is like. Get to know yourself my dear and you will be much happier for it."

On this night I remembered what she had said and as I watched the water slip past my breasts, I reached up to cup them. High and perfectly formed with rosy pink nipples they seemed to me a perfect design. I envisioned a man's hands, no, Thomas' hands mounding my breasts and rolling my nipples. I pictured his muscled torso gleaming in the sun biting my lip when I recalled the way his breeches hugged his thighs emphasizing this manhood. I let my hands roam down my belly and tickle along the tops of my thighs. I could sense the tension that tightened along my core as I fantasized it was Thomas probing the edges of my sex. My breath hitched as I rubbed my right hand along the puffing lips and stroked the locus of my being. Sweet Jesus, it felt as if I would fly right out of my skin with the need for satisfaction. The rising pressure had bowed my back thrusting my breasts higher as I drove myself further desperately seeking to spill over the warm wet edge of release.

After a few moments in which I regained my composure I was able to rise on shaking legs to dry myself for bed. I felt wonderfully sated and drowsy as I made my way into the bedchamber. Slipping between the cool sheets I smiled as snuggled against the pillow. Tomorrow was a new beginning as I had a new friend. As I drifted into slumber I realized that I had nothing to fear from this new acquaintance. Perhaps I would grow to love her as a sister but it was a bit odd she was so very eager to gain my companionship. Mayhap she had been as lonely in her existence as I was in mine for someone my own age. My last thoughts were of her as I closed my eyes.

In the morning I awoke most refreshed and lay stretching in my bed while I considered my new friends situation and comportment. Young people like, and even love, on impulse. I was flattered by the evident, though as yet undeserved, fondness she had shown me on the previous evenings' short visit. I liked the confidence with which she at once received me but pondered her evident neediness as a possible indicator of angst. She was determined that we should be very dear friends. That may also have been a visible sign of her distress at her mothers' brusque abandonment; leaving her without a moments' notice to reside with strangers for the unforeseeable future. I determined to offer every courtesy and kindness to make her welcome in my home. She did not arrive for breakfast but I heard her sigh with pleasure as she entered the room some hours later and seeing us gathered for luncheon wished us all good day.

She said, "I'm sorry if my exhaustion of the night has led me to oversleep and I would not have you think I am without good manners; please do forgive me for my absence."

Her presence was so serene; her movements so delicate she must have been of noble birth and I was happy to see she looked recovered. One of the servants prepared a plate for her and retired leaving us to converse in private.

I was utterly delighted with my new companion; that is to say, in many respects. Her looks lost nothing in daylight—she was certainly the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, and the unpleasant remembrance of the face presented in my early dream, had lost the effect of the first unexpected recognition. She confessed that she had experienced a similar shock on seeing me, and precisely the same faint antipathy that had mingled with my admiration of her. We now laughed together over our momentary horrors.

I told you that I was charmed with her in most particulars. There were some that did not please me so well. She was above the middle height of women. I shall begin by describing her. She was slender, and wonderfully graceful. Except that her movements were languid—very languid—indeed, there was nothing in her appearance to indicate an invalid. Her complexion was rich and brilliant; creamy skin with a plush naturally red mouth. I was sure upon first seeing her in the daylight she must crush berries and stain her lips for else how could she have that lush color with the palest of skin? Her nose and chin were small and beautifully formed; her eyes large, dark, and lustrous; her hair was quite wonderful, I never saw hair so magnificently thick and long when it was down about her shoulders; I have often placed my hands under it, and laughed with wonder at its weight. It was exquisitely fine and soft, and in color, a rich very dark brown, with something of gold shot through as if she had light painted within her tresses. I loved to let it down, tumbling with its own weight, as, in her room, she lay back in her chair talking in her sweet low voice, I used to fold and braid it, and spread it out and play with it.

That first afternoon as we walked the grounds, the sunlight leaving patches of brilliant color among the shade I took note of the changes in her appearance as she moved from light to dark.

"My dearest friend," I laughed, "you must be something of a wood sprite the ancient Greeks used to praise. For you appear quite different as you move into the shade".

I watched her turn from her contemplation of the stream and smile at me. Gazing up into the dappled light she chuckled and it was as if scented petals had passed me by with her breath.

"Ah so you know the truth." She wiggled her eyebrows comically and I found myself laughing along with her. I continued with the game and said, "Well now you are far from your home in crumbling Athens but you are most welcome here."

She moved closer to me as if she was seeking something along the path. Her eyes raked the ground and I noticed she had moved into the darkest patch of shade. "What are you looking for my wood nymph? Have you lost your way?"

"No" she replied, "I fear I have misplaced my earring for I just noticed one has gone missing."

We both began to walk along the path peering into the dirt for a glint of gold. I spied something sparkling in the sun nearest the river bank and left her company to retrieve it. Reaching down I found a blood red ruby set in the finest golden filigree. With a shout of pleasure I raised it in my hand and turned to show her I had found the wayward jewel. Again she had meandered off the path and was once again standing in the thick shade of the woods. Although only a few strides away I felt she watching me from a much greater distance. There was a somber feel to the day even with the sun shining so warmly. I felt a chill and drew my eyes to my surroundings and noted that I was standing in the brightest of light. Yet when I looked again to my friend I could not help but feel there was a great chasm between us. Watching me with such stillness I wondered what she was contemplating and hoped she was not regretting her hasty friendship to my person.

The woods felt hushed and as I cocked my head I wondered why the bird song had quieted and why I had not noticed it sooner. Odd, but not unusual and then I remembered the wolves and grew frightened.

Her voice came from the trees and calmed me. "Do not be afraid my friend for nothing will harm you in my presence."

I found my eyes drawn back to her still figure and watched as she moved towards me. The sunlight failed to penetrate the leaves overhead and she moved in shadow; her hair now appeared as black and rich as the obsidian blade my father had collected from an archeologist friend long ago. I watched her move closer and looked back to the ground. The leaves from last winter were dry and brittle but her footsteps made no sound that penetrated the woods. I could feel my heart begin to race and my mouth became ashen but I told myself I was being silly. After all I was here on my family estate with a friend. A friend who wished to be with me and enjoy my company; so why did I want so desperately to flee? Just before she entered the ring of light in which I stood I stopped breathing for the merest of moments.

The very air seemed to have grown heavy and thick making it hard to breathe. My scalp prickled and an icy chill lanced my spine. I could feel the tiniest of hairs along my neck stand up giving rise to a flicker of panic. It must have been a trick of the mind brought about by my nightmares for there was no other explanation.

I found myself looking at the sun's ray's chase themselves along the hemline of her dress as she moved forward. I watched entranced as the patterned light traced its way upwards towards her thighs when I again was overcome by the need to run. I jerked my head up and was frozen with indecision; run from my only friend or not.

She must have understood the confusion of my mind for she stopped and gave me a look that was both frightening and anguished. The sun had reached as far as the white lace which formed a halo around her bosom but her face remained out of its warmth. Her right hand slowly opened, palm up as if she sought my benediction for some unmentioned transgression. Her eyes seemed to grow lighter as they welled with unshed tears; again I was reminded of a cat only not some contented barn cat fat on cream and mice but rather a tiger that would hurt me because it was in its nature. I shook my head to clear the visions that clouded my judgment as she stepped fully into the light. Herself again; laughing and tossing her head.

"Ah my new friend, you looked most oddly just now. I had thought to continue the game of impersonating a wood nymph but you seemed distressed by it and I would not for the world cause you harm. Let us continue on our stroll and remain in the light away from thoughts of fancy and ancient myths."

She clasped my hand to hers and I was comforted by her touch. I smiled up into her warm face and felt happy in her company. Heavens! If I had but known the truth.


	4. Chapter 4

I said there were particulars which did not please me. I have told you that her confidence won me the first night I saw her; but I found that she exercised with respect to herself, her mother, family history, everything in fact connected with her life, plans, and people, an ever wakeful reserve. I could say that I was unreasonable in my desire to know more about her. Perhaps I was wrong; I dare say I ought to have respected the solemn injunction laid upon my father by the stately lady in black velvet. But curiosity is a restless and unscrupulous passion, and no one girl can endure, with patience, that hers should be baffled by another. What harm could it do anyone to tell me what I so ardently desired to know? Had she no amount of trust in my good sense or honor? Why would she not believe me when I assured her, so solemnly, that I would not divulge one syllable of what she told me and would take her secrets to the grave?

There existed a coldness it seemed to me, beyond her years, in her smiling melancholy persistent refusal to afford me the least ray of light. I cannot say we quarreled upon this point, for she would not quarrel upon any. It was, of course, very unfair of me to press her, very ill-bred, but I really could not help it; and I might just as well have let it alone. What she did tell me amounted, in my unconscionable estimation—to nothing.

It was all summed up in four very vague disclosures:

First—Her name was Carmilla.

Second—Her family was very ancient and noble.

Third—Her home lay in the direction of the west.

Fourth-Hundreds of years ago her family had been devastated by something she would not name.

She would not tell me the name of her family, their armorial bearings, not the name of their estate nor even that of the country they called home. You are not to suppose that I worried her incessantly on these subjects. I watched for an opportunity, and rather insinuated than urged my inquiries.

Once or twice, indeed, I did attack her more directly. But no matter what my tactics, utter failure was invariably the result. Reproaches and caresses were all lost upon her. But I must add this, that her evasion was conducted with so pretty a melancholy deprecation, with so many, and even passionate declarations of her liking for me, and trust in my honor, and with so many promises that I should at last know all, that I could not find it in my heart long to be offended with her.

She used to place her pretty arms about my neck, draw me to her, and laying her cheek to mine, murmur with her lips near my ear, "Dearest, your little heart is wounded; think me not cruel because I obey the irresistible law of my strength and weakness; if your dear heart is wounded my wild heart bleeds with yours. In the rapture of my enormous humiliation I live in your warm life, and you shall die—die, sweetly die—into mine. I cannot help it; as I draw near to you, you, in your turn, will draw near to others, and learn the rapture of that cruelty, which yet is love. So for now, seek to know no more of me and mine, but trust me with all your loving spirit."

And when she had spoken such a rhapsody, she would press me more closely in her trembling embrace, and her lips in soft kisses gently glow upon my cheek. I was so moved by her impassioned pleas and warm clinging touch that I would refrain from further questions.

Her agitations and her language were sometimes unintelligible to me. At times her mind would drift and she would mumble in such a fashion that I could not follow a single word. Her German and French were of the highest quality but she would drift into a language that I could not follow. It was musical in tone but since I could not comprehend what she was saying I would wait for these odd moments of hers to pass.

From these foolish embraces, which were growing to be a more frequent occurrence, I must allow, I used to wish to extricate myself; but my energies seemed to fail me. Her murmured words sounded like a lullaby in my ear, and soothed my resistance into a trance, from which I only seemed to recover myself when she withdrew her arms.

The following Sunday dawned bright and clear which was a delight after days of dreary rain which had kept us confined indoors. Carmilla did not enjoy reading or any of the other skills well bred women are taught. She cared nothing for painting, needlework, or the playing of the pianoforte. Madame had prompted me to continue with my musical practice as I had been avoiding it for days. When I suggested Carmilla accompany me by singing she became quite displeased.

She frowned and said, "You would be so unkind as to drag me to church on this fine day to listen to a dusty old man rattle his teeth around parables he doesn't understand then force me to screech while you bang about on the keys? You are my dearest friend but I do not fare well in the mornings as you well know yet you insisted on beating down my door."

She glared at me and hissed, "Such a racket! It was very rude of you and most unwelcome."

I held my composure in the face of her anger and said levelly, "Yet you did not answer. I had thought you would enjoy seeing our little chapel, it boasts some of the most beautiful stained glass which is best viewed in the morning light. In my excitement to show you the chapel I did not consider your constitution and need for sleep. I am sorry I have injured our friendship."

I was hurt by her behavior and felt it was unwarranted. Perhaps I had been overeager to show her the chapel but I felt her verbal assault far exceeded what she viewed as my boorish act of simply knocking on her door. Giving me a sly look she laughed at my discomfort.

"You have done nothing of the sort but I am not inclined to see the chapel now that luncheon has passed and I am quite sure the sun will no longer show it in all its glory. As for the singing you are much better off that I refrained from accompanying you for I have a frightful voice when it is raised too high. I did it for your own good as I would not injure your delicate ears."

Her words soothed my heart but I still felt injured by her actions. Moving away from her I took a seat and poked through my music sheets. Thinking to learn more about her I inquired as to the womanly skills she had acquired which all ladies of circumstance are expected to obtain prior to marriage. The running of a proper house requires more than just planning a menu and yet her face became rigid upon hearing my question. Her lips compressed in a flat line and I knew once again that I had in all innocence angered her.

Clenching her fists she spoke biting off her words. "There is no need for me to learn any of those time wasting activities if they do not give me pleasure nor promote my desires. That's what servants are for! They should be trained to perform their duties without my prodding and oversight. If they should prove derelict in their duties then they should suffer for it. The only time they should even attract my notice is if they displease me and they will not enjoy my attention if they draw it. I have far better things to do that play the role of overseer and you would do well to learn this within your own household for you are far too lax. You even allow two of them sit at the family table during meals!"

Shockeded as I was by her statement I was also angered by it. However in an effort to maintain a cordial relationship with her I tempered my response. After all I was well aware she would be in residence for many months yet and wished to live in harmony.

In defense of myself and my father I stood and said, "Dearest Carmilla you are obviously unfamiliar with the function of a governess. It has long been the practice in houses of refinement that certain positions are considered to be other than staff and as such they are welcome at the family table. Many royal households do the same and I see no reason to discontinue the practice."

Even my own ears recognized the huffy and defensive tone in which I spoke but I would not allow anyone to mock my father or the manner in which he chose to run his affairs

She shrugged her shoulders and said in a dismissive tone, "Let us not quarrel over such small things. Each household is different and I fear that the strict table set by my mother in accordance with family tradition has cast me in an unfavorable light. Our family has long been in this part of the world but my mothers' ancestors were aligned through blood to the Spanish royal court. The customs of a royal household are far different from those of minor nobility and landed gentry. I should not have expected you to know that."

I was fairly incensed as she had made that cutting comment while looking down her nose at me. How could she be so inconsiderate of our friendship when we had opened our home and hearts to her? I decided to quit her company and wishing her a good day made for the door. She must have sensed she had gone too far for I felt her rush up behind me and whisk her arms around my chest.

"Darling friend, I am sorry. I had not meant to wound you so. It is a lovely day let us not ruin it with acrimony between us. Shall we take one of the books you are so fond of and a small picnic to the river? You shall read to me and perhaps I will grow more enamored of books."

Hot kisses pressed against my neck, "Although I cannot imagine loving any book as much as I love you."

I wished I could say that her insults had dampened my enthusiasm completely however that would be a falsehood. I allowed myself a wan smile and agreed to her proposal. She offered to ring the bell and order some small foodstuffs while I chose a book that I found agreeable.

We walked in silent companionship through the wooded path until we came upon a sunlit glade near the river bank. We were speaking of the book I had chosen when I heard footsteps and the creaking of wooden wheels from behind us. She laughed with delight upon seeing my surprise.

"Did you think I would allow our dresses to become damaged by sitting on the grass? I appreciate fine fabric and the blue damask you are wearing would be ruined without protection."

Two footmen entered the clearing pulling a small handcart. They greeted me most kindly but I noticed they avoided looking at Carmilla. I wondered if one of the maids had been passing through the hall and overheard her comments earlier. Given how loudly she spoke it would not be surprising if the entire castle now knew how she felt about the place of servants. To lessen the tension I thanked them most profusely for their kindness yet the smiles slipped off their faces as I felt Carmilla approach. Oddly she seemed delighted by the fact that they involuntarily stepped back away from me as she walked forward and approached the cart.

"See Laura, here we have ample blankets to protect our dresses and should the shade grow too chilly they will keep us warm. Pillows and bolsters to lean on while you read aloud. It will be a wonderful way to pass the afternoon."

Not bothering to thank the footmen she dismissed them with a wave of her hand as she turned away. "Return for the cart after we have sat for dinner. I do not wish to be disturbed by an early arrival."

They scowled at her finely clothed backside and looked upset at leaving me with only her for company but retreated without comment. I was about to make a suggestion regarding her need to be more civil to the servants when I realized that earlier she had let slip information about her family. She was so demanding of her privacy that it was a most difficult task discerning anything about her past.

It was not much but I ruminated on the fact that her mothers' family came from Spain. If they were connected by blood to the Spanish royal family her ancestral ties may be in Barcelona or mayhap Castile. I wondered if there was a way to discover who they were and where her maternal line had gone from Spain. I recalled she had said her family was from the west and I would endeavor to extract more information from her. She giggled and seemed herself again as she tossed pillows into the air.

"Come and we shall make ourselves comfortable. Tell me what piece of literary illumination you have chosen for my delicate temperament. I shall make a most ardent listener."

I held up the book I carried and smiled hopefully at her; "Utopia by Sir Thomas Moore, its' a wonderful story and I never tire of reading it. I do hope you will enjoy it."

We made ourselves comfortable and I began to read aloud. Carmilla seemed content to poke into the basket and nibble as I read. After a time I noticed she had gone still and seemed lost in thought. Looking at her I wondered if she was in fact enjoying the story or had grown bored but did not want to cause further offense. I continued on and after a time I found myself feeling her eyes upon me. Turning I asked if she was well or if she would prefer we return to the castle.

She smiled sleepily at me and said, "I enjoy watching your earnest enjoyment but even more the way your mouth moves as you form the words. Ah and now you blush which is also lovely."

She moved closer to me and laid her head on my shoulder so that I was forced to lower the book.

"Carmilla I shall not be able to continue my reading for you distract me."

"Perhaps we can lie here and look at the clouds. Tell me what you see when you look at them; do you imagine animals or galleons tossed upon the sea

I gazed upwards and laughed, "Sheep, fat woolly sheep romping across the sky. Now it's your turn what do you see?"

Her voice had grown husky and she said, "Swirling skirts of a ball gown spinning fast during a dance. Mayhap that is how you will appear in your winter gown at the Yuletide ball." She reached over and pulled the book from my hand laying it aside.

"I have had enough of Thomas Moore for today."

I felt her stroking my hand and she said "I feel so tired. The sun has sapped my strength and left me weak with fatigue. Would you mind if I rested for now?"

I smiled over at her beautiful face so close to mine and said, "No, dearest friend that sounds quite suitable for I am very comfortable here and we have the remainder of the day for Sir Thomas."

My eyes grew heavy with the heat on my face and I knew I should not lie about in the sun for it could cause my skin to darken which is not considered attractive for a lady of refinement.

I thought about reaching for my parasol to shield my skin but it felt so wonderful that I decided just this once to revel in the sunshine. At first I assumed the sensations were part of the dream I was having but I parted my eyes and found her stroking my face and neck. I heard her whispering and murmuring to herself but at first I was so drowsy I could not make out the words.

I felt myself drifting back into innocent slumber as she said, "so very white I can see the blood rushing through your veins and I am hypnotized by it."

I felt myself smile. Then something brushed across my lips, fluttering open my eyes I laughed for she was dragging a small flower over my mouth and chi

"I wish it was a white rose but that would still pale in comparison to your delicate beauty so I had to make do with this pretty weed."

I felt my heart race as she leaned over me and blocked out the light. Her eyes radiated with an intensity which made me uncomfortable. "Carmilla are you well? You look flushed."

Her lips curved up and she said, "Do you ever dream of being intimate with another?"

I gasped in shock for I had never spoken of what happened in my dreams when the dark visitor came. Then it crossed my mind that perhaps she spoke of the few times she had kissed me. I chided her and spoke with some embarrassment. "No, for a few kisses here and there do not constitute intimacy as that between a man and his wife." She narrowed her eyes and said, "And do you not think perhaps that it would be wise for you to understand something of the art that is lovemaking or would you prefer to go to your bridal bed without any idea of how to please a man?"

I listened and wondered if she was offering a better way than my current solo explorations; would it be so wrong to practice with Carmilla? She could see the thoughts racing through my mind but decided she would take the decision out of my hands. I grew dizzy as she moved in and placed her mouth against mine. I knew I should protest. I knew I should push her away but the sensations overrode my good sense. Letting all thoughts of propriety and decorum slip I could only relish in the passion that ripped through my soul. Her mouth ravished mine with a hunger that I returned without prompting. I was pressed down amidst the pillows and her weight was atop me as she punished me with her lips. Over heated from this strange excitement I dropped my arms away from our embrace and let them rest above my head.

She withdrew slightly and said under her breathe, "are you what I have longed for all these years?"

I was confused by this question and failed to respond for truly what could I have said? Her gaze tracked along my face as if seeking something only she could see. Unsure if she found what she was looking for I was neither soothed nor enlightened by her expression. Ribbons of anxiety seemed to twist through her eyes as she cocked her head and stared at me.

In a voice laden with threatening undertones she said, "I could not, nay I will not suffer any more betrayal; would you be the one to betray me?"

My brows drew together as I pondered her disturbing question. How could I betray her? I knew nearly nothing about her; not even her surname. What did she fear and who had caused her such grief in the past that she would develop this protective shell around her own history? I queried her back, "What have I ever done except be your friend?"

Flapping my hands in frustration I bit off my words, "If you feel that I should be your undoing then perhaps you should quit my company and save yourself from the damnable future you must have portended. I'll not be called a Judas when I've done nothing wrong."

I heard the whining tone in my voice but truly this afternoon had quickly turned from an enjoyable one to a complete bother. I had had enough of this nonsense; her strange melancholy, sharp temper and paranoid actions. Carmilla was becoming not only a bore but a most insufferable companion. She who cloaked herself in mystery and shadow expected far too much from my simple nature.

Sharp tears pricked my eyes as I pushed my hands against her shoulders. "Let me up," I demanded, "for I no longer desire to continue neither this picnic nor this conversation." She remained still and unyielding. It was like pushing against a wall for I could not enjoin her to move. I grew so incensed that I barked at her, "Enough of your games Carmilla! Leave off."

She sighed and rolled away. Keeping her back to me she huddled into herself and said, "You cannot understand what it is like for me. Always alone, never sure where I belong; beholden to no one and loved by none."

The anguish in her voice was heartbreaking. Shame swept through me for I had not meant to wound her so deeply. I reached out with a tentative hand and plagued by indecision delayed for a moment then placed my fingers on her shoulder. Giving her a gentle squeeze I apologized for raising my voice in anger. I felt her shudder slightly at my touch and a fresh wave of guilt surged through me for hurting her even though I was unaware of how I had done so. She picked at me and demanded much but if I responded in kind she fell apart as if she was made of fragile crystal.

In a voice dripping with hope and sorrow she said, "Please, please do not abandon me. I have been alone for so many years even God does not see me. I live my life knowing that never shall I attain more than fleeting moments of happiness. I live yet I am destroyed but what I can never have."

Her head hung in such abject misery my shame was cutting and deep. I snuggled up to her and placed my head against her back hoping to salve her hurt. Wrapping my arms around her I whispered, "Whatever secrets you have are yours to keep but understand that my curiosity is only that-nothing more. I do not seek answers in order to bring you harm or dishonor."

I kissed her wet cheek and held her close. "Let us not fight but try instead to make the most of this beautiful day in the sweet harmony of friendship."

I felt one of her hands clutch mine and she moaned as if it the merest touch of my skin would be her salvation. Softly she whispered, "I would like to bathe away my tears. It has grown excessively warm and I believe the water would prove soothing."

I had thought she meant for us to abandon our sunlit glade for the ease of the castle but her actions proved me wrong. Pulling away from me she stood up and faced the sparkling blue water nearby. Her back remained to me and I could not see what her she was doing but her arms were bent at the elbows as if she was hugging herself. Unsure of what action I should take I sat still and waited for her to provide some clue as to how I should respond. I cannot say even today that what she did was expected but even now these many years later I can remember the rush of conflicting ideas that bombarded my mind. With a shrug of her shoulders the simple dress dropped to the ground pooling at her feet, leaving her in a plain linen shift. The suns' rays outlined her form in all its' perfection leaving nothing to the imagination. She spun back towards me and with a laugh said, "Shall we indulge ourselves in a swim?"

I gaped at her and couldn't stop myself from glancing around the woods to see if anyone else was nearby. Her bold stance suggested that she cared not if other eyes feasted on her while I dithered unable to form a response. I cast my eyes downward for it felt wrong albeit tempting to stare at her figure. I felt the cooling sensation of her shadow as she loomed over me. The amusement in her voice was evident as she burbled at me, "Did you not call me your wood nymph? Am I not spritely in appearance? Would you deny me this luxurious day filled with possibilities of myth becoming reality?"

I cast my eyes upward but her face was in shadow and I felt myself relax with the silliness of the situation. After all, Papa had gone away on estate business and it had been Carmilla herself that ordered no one return for the handcart until we were within the castle. On this day we were young, free and without restraint why not take this chance to be indulgent? I was not a wicked girl but for once I wanted to be. I wanted to be free of society and all its' rules. I wanted to be a wild thing without a care or regrets.

I reached for her outstretched hand and allowed her to assist me to my feet. She urged haste and speaking with conviction she said, "Hurry and be done with that heavy garment the water beckons."

On quick little feet she danced away and ran to the water. The shout to be wary of rocks died on my lips as I watched her arch through the sunlight and splash from sight. I held my breath in panic for I had no idea if she could swim underwater but she burst through the surface and flung her sodden hair back over her head. "Laura you must hurry-it's pure magic," she shouted in triumph.

Throwing caution to the wind I quickly undid my buttons and shimmied off the heavy damask fabric. The heat of the sun rippled along my skin and the whisper of a breeze ran along my bare legs. I sat with a thud and hurriedly pulled off my shoes and stockings. The cool springy sensation of delicate grass on my bare feet was heavenly. Standing I bowed my back and threw my arms up stretching as far as I could on the tops of my toes. I felt a wildness come into me with the joy being unencumbered by convention. Laughing with abandon I skipped to the river bank and waded in splashing like a child.

I felt the fabric clinging to my thighs as I sank deeper into the cool water. Carmilla had been bobbing with her legs tucked under her so that all I could see was her wet head. She paddled nearer to the shore and stood with an ease that told me she was quite comfortable in the water and her appearance.

The fabric clung to her in such a way as to accentuate her sexuality. I could not take my eyes away from her as she stood waist deep and swaying with the slow current. The water parted around her pulling her hair as it meandered downstream. I could hardly breathe I was so stricken by her beauty. Her face was watchful but she did not speak. For all intents and purposes I was aware that she was as real as I was but vision before me seemed surreal. It was if a Greek sculptor had misplaced his finest work and it had mysteriously ended up in the stream. The fabric licked along her flanks and molded to her belly. Her breasts were pushing against the linen as her nipples strained to break free. She smiled and moved closer. The very air seemed to shift and shimmer around her as if she was a thing unto herself and nature could not move her if she denied it.

When she was only an arms' length away she sank again until she had submerged herself then oh so very slowly she began to rise with the water rushing down around her head dripping from her lashes and chin. I could feel the air rushing in and out of my chest at the sight of her wet glistening mouth smiling impishly at me.

I stood there feeling the water course around my legs and while I knew it was cold I felt a heated sinful rush of warmth race through my body as I watched her move closer. I could not help but think I should remove myself back onto the grass and out of harm's way. Yet the tiniest voice in the back of my head dared me to stand my ground and see what may come of her bold advance. I did not have long to wait for while I dithered she continued to step ever closer until she was only a hand span away. Her eyes glinted with mischief and something else I could not name while her lips curved up in a most wicked fashion. I could not turn away even if I wanted to; her eyes held me still even as my heart seemed to leap from my chest.

"Do you still think me a wood nymph?" She asked, "And if so does that not also make you a creature of the forest?"

I found I could not answer her so I remained standing there, mute as the trees which surrounded us. I could not move I could not think but it would be a lie to say that some part of me did not hunger to see what she would do next.

I had not long to wait for my dear friend, this woman of riddles and secrets pressed closer still until our wet shifts were pressed against one another. "Are you not growing cold" she asked, "For I could do much to warm you."

An animal moving through the forest snapped some twigs; the sound echoing across and breaking the spell I felt myself under. I turned back towards the river bank and determined that I would leave before I did something I might later come to regret. Tis one thing to have strange fantasies in the night because one knows that they are secret and therefore have no bearing on what is true of a person's character but quite another to act upon them in the light of day. I began to splash my way back towards the safety of our picnic spot when I felt her closing in behind me. Without warning her hands were upon my shoulders stealing my forward motion. "Laura, you are the dearest companion of my heart. Why do you seek to evade me? Have I done something to cause you to turn away?"

"No, I have just grown chilled and have no wish to grow ill with a cough. I think perhaps I should prefer a blanket as the water feels too cold for a swim today."

I sensed her reach out then felt her clasp my left hand. "Perhaps you are right let us try this, another day" she said in a gentle voice that could not hide the swirling undercurrents of resentment that dripped with each word.

In silence we walked hand-in-hand back to the sunny patch of grass where only moments before I had so boldly shed my dress. A swirl of confusion fogged my mind yet I was relieved to have returned to a sense of normalcy. Carmilla snuggled closer as we strolled and gave off a sigh as if she had grown weary of my company. That tore through me and I suffered the smallest sense of loss which made me question what it was that I was so fearful of.

I had began to dry my feet while avoiding Carmilla's gaze when I heard her laughter ripple across the water. "You do realize that it's quite impossible for you to dry off if you continue to sit in that sodden garment."

Brushing off her comment I insisted that with the sun on my back I should soon be quite dry and able to complete my dressing. Unsure of how I felt or what I was meant to feel I continued to stare at the grass around my feet as I blotted the moisture from my arms.

"Here, mulled wine. I thought perhaps you might take a chill so I ordered this packed just in case."

Raising my eyes I smiled my thanks and wrapped both hands around the warm goblet. Realizing that I must seem an ungrateful fool to her I gave a demented grin and said, "A toast, to my dear friend Carmilla who is ever prepared for any contingency."

Closing my eyes I raised the glass and took a deep sip. Sighing with pleasure as I swallowed I noted there is nothing more wonderful than warm spiced wine to chase away the chill of the bones. Carmilla began to chat about all the places in the world that she wished she could explore and how her life would've been so very different if only she'd been born a boy so that she might even have grown up to be a fearsome pirate. I cocked open one eye and gave her my best pirate impression at which she laughed with a merry tinkle.

"Laura, I'm afraid you'd have to do much better than that if you wish to be the scourge of the seven seas." Laughing and giggling at how silly we were; two well bred young women pretending to be pirates I rolled onto my back to catch my breath. The sun beat down taking the chill from my skin while an inner glow moved out from my stomach and drifted through my limbs. I stretched out my limbs reveling in the ease that youth enjoys. It was a most languid sensation of languid repose.

I felt a warm towel being rubbed along my arm but I did not open my eyes for I no longer had the energy to tell her to cease her actions. I heard her say, "Allow me to pretend that I am the ladies maid in waiting to a great queen. I shall dry you off, wrap you in a warm blanket and stand watch over you during your afternoon sleep."

Going along with the game I raised my right hand and twirled it about, "Well then Lady of the Privy Chamber you had best tend to your duties for I am sure the King would be most displeased if I were to catch a chill."

I relaxed back and decided to give myself over to her soothing touch. The nubby cloth moved in warm soft circles along the inside of my calves and blotted behind my knees catching the river water that trickled off my legs. It did not feel erotic but rather like the gentle touch of a mother which tells the child she is safe and loved. I felt myself growing drowsy as if I would slip away into the most pleasant of dreams. Even as the towel crept up along the inside of my thigh I did not become alarmed. I must have fallen asleep for I was awakened by a breeze that scraped across my naked skin. Fluttering my eyelids open I glanced down and realized I no longer wore my wet and clinging shift. Lolling my head to the right I saw Camilla's face inches from mine.

"Are you enjoying this, my lady?"

I must've murmured something which she found agreeable as just before my eyelids closed I saw her lips quicken in a smile. I drifted away on the warm summer breeze carried by the sun without and the mulled wine within. I realize now with all those years that have faded into the past what I was consenting to and perhaps if I was truly honest with myself I would admit that I was using the excuse of the heavy wine to give consent on that very day. I felt lips press against mine and even though part of me knew it was Camilla's mouth that tasted me I smiled into her kiss and dreamt of Thomas. In my mind's eye it was his warm face pressing against me, his hand that cupped my naked breast.

Dear God, I prayed please don't let me die a virgin for what I would not give to have a moment like this was Thomas.

I felt my nipple jerk erect when a hot and insistent mouth closed over it. Drawing back slightly I could feel her teeth graze over the edge of the sensitive bud and my shoulders twitched in response. The cool breeze played across my chest as I felt her mouth drop back down to her throbbing target. Without thought I found myself wrapping one arm around her shoulders as if to keep her anchored to me. I heard her sigh with deep satisfaction at my touch. Rolling my head to face the sun's rays I gave myself over to whatever pleasures the afternoon should reveal.

A small warm hand lingered on the inside of my thigh then danced across to the other as if inviting me to part my legs just little more. Sighing with pleasure I shifted my bottom to provide greater access. Tender touches flicked across my downy hairline causing a wave of heat to flare out from my womb. The briefest of caresses and then soft, warm puffs of air grazed across my most private parts. I became utterly shameless, raising my hips up to meet her mouth. The feeling was overwhelming, her tongue was magic. I could hear myself whimpering and panting with pleasure as I rocked myself in time to some primal rhythm. The heat grew until I could not think just feel, it was the sweetest of agonies.

My release came leaving me gasping and shuddering until I was spent with no more strength left. Stunned and completely unashamed I reveled in my wanton nakedness. I knew I would later feel a wave of guilt and the spikes of darkest shame which would pierce my heart but for now I wanted nothing more than to push that aside and bask in the rippling heat that tingled all through me.

Slowly I became aware that I was growing chilled and I turned my head towards the river bank and felt the warm breath that floated against my shoulder. I smiled into her eyes and told Carmilla that I had known it was wrong for truly we had committed a sin in the eyes of the church but God help me it felt so good. Her reply was slow in coming and at first I thought perhaps I had angered her but she was not looking at me; her interest was on something beyond me. I began to turn my head to see what had caught her attention when she grasped my chin with her left hand hindering my motion. Her dark green eyes flicked back to mine, "No dearest Laura for you must believe me. What we have done this day is far from sinful but rather an expression of joy and love. In fact for thousands of years young ladies of the highest breeding have engaged in the Sapphic arts in order to learn pleasure without the burden of an illegitimate child that could spoil an alliance through marriage."

I pondered that statement for only a moment and then decided it was a most logical conclusion. She draped a warm quilted blanket across my body covering me up the neck and said "I must be off to make use of the woods. Rest here and sleep easy knowing that I shall watch over you. No harm will come to you while I live."

I had assumed she needed the time to attend to private matters of hygiene so I said no more and curling onto my side I watched her walk naked through the ferns.

Sometime after I know not how long I felt myself come aware yet could not be sure I was not still dreaming. The vision that appeared before my eyes could only have been a remnant of the wine for I knew we were alone in this idyllic spot. Yet there was Carmilla not 20 feet away on her knees before a man who was holding his homespun shirt up; tucked tight against his chest so he could look down and see his cock thrusting into her mouth. His enthusiastic grunts of pleasure were thick and course, grating upon my sensibilities. I watched her hands run down his backside and across his thighs as if to encourage him to maintain an even rhythm. Her lips were glistening with saliva which dripped down her chin and made his cock shine in the dappled light. I continued to watch as she placed her hands against his hips and pushed him back slightly so that he was locked in place by her mouth. The protruding tip of his cock was a deep red, engorged and bulbous. When she flicked her tongue across the front of the knob his whole body jerked in response. I found myself blinking in surprise for how could this be? Was I having some type of waking dream? Had I become so altered by our encounter I know visualized sexual acts everywhere I looked?

Her murmuring something to him only added to my bewilderment. I shook my head to clear my senses but the image before my eyes remained unaltered. Believing I might be suffering some level of disorder brought about by the wine I tucked my head onto my crocked arm and continued to watch the drama unfold.

One of her hands slowly reached out and cupped the heavy sack while the other traced sharp nails across his belly. He gave her a wink and a salacious grin as she leaned back on her heels. I saw her slowly rise to stand before him while he shuddered with need. Releasing his manhood abruptly her fingers slipped up his chest and grasped his shoulders, slowly pushing him down and placing his face against her navel. I had thought he would give her the kisses that she had bestowed on me but instead she sank down onto him; lowering herself against him.

Her breasts dragged across his face and chest until he wrapped his arms around her grabbing her buttocks. She was astride him rocking back and forth shuddering as she took her pleasure. I looked on as she continued to pant; her thighs and bottom flexing each time she rose up as her hands clutched at the back of his head. Softly I heard her voice urging him to meet her stroke for stroke driving him on then in a harsh biting tone warning him not to spend himself before she achieved her satisfaction. After some moments of this frantic rutting she slowed her pace and grew still perched above his twitching member keeping only the head of his massive cock resting within her. I held my breath for fear she might notice my gaze upon this private encounter but she only flicked her eyes towards the leaves that rustled above her gleaming head. The woodsman sensed her distraction and mumbled something I could not hear but it must not have been anything of note as Carmilla did not even cast her gaze back to him. I watched him stare up into her face as if to seek some type of assurance that all was well but receiving no message of encouragement from her it appeared to me that he was going to use other means to gain her attention.

He nuzzled her breasts and grabbed her hips attempting to lower her further onto his member in an effort to encourage her to resume her heated movements. Without warning she froze and gave him a gimlet eyed stare. Then she moved swiftly, lowering her head and grabbed his lower lip between her teeth causing him to yelp. "Dare you not, if you cheat me from what is mine you will come to regret your selfish actions" she hissed at him.

He jerked his head back and gave her a fierce look with his lips moving in a broken line uttering something that did not appear to be comforting to the girl in his embrace. Carmilla cocked her head to one side narrowing her eyes as if she was some confronted by something she did not understand. He leaned in and gripped one nipple with his teeth pulling back, tugging and stretching her skin almost to the point of pain. I was wincing at this act but oddly felt my own heat begin to throb between my legs in excitement. Strangely she arched her back thrusting her breasts closer to this wild man while gripping his shoulders as if to dig her fingers through to the strong muscle underneath them. She slowly inch by inch lowered her hips until his massive length was sheathed inside her then patted him on the chest. Laughing girlishly she said, "Now impress me and never forget my warning; ladies first or learn what happens to selfish men."

He grabbed her about the waist slamming her up and down against him as if she weighed nothing. His mouth worked but I could not hear what he said in reply to her threatening words as he was again grunting and gasping for air. Then without warning he pulled her closer as his entire body began to slam into her with such violence I feared for her safety. In just moments his body went still and yet he clung onto her like some type of hairy limpet. I wondered if she would come back to me or stay with her new prince of the woods. I saw her arch her back away from him turning her head my way so I closed my eyes and waited for a few breaths. I counted slowly to ten in my head while my heart began to bang against my chest as if in fear from her and how she might react if she realized I had been spying on her. With aching slowness I peeked through my lashes and realized that she had turned back to her burly companion. She wound her fingers through his hair tugging this way and that which caused his head to roll gently about on his shoulders.

Giving him a wicked smile she questioned him for his failure. "Did you not take heed of my words? Do you not think it a man's duty to satisfy his mate? Are all men so self indulgent and willing to fulfill their needs above all else?" His eyes remained closed as if to shut out her words and he made no reply.

Cocking her head sideways like an inquisitive bird she continued, "Are all women to be nothing more than a vessel for someone else's needs?"

He gave off a bored chuckle and grinned at her, "Eh love, what's this now? Having a bit of buyer's remorse are you? Girls are all alike no matter how much coin they've got in pocket. Rich or poor you all whine after the deed is done."

I heard the sharp slap he gave to her naked bottom and winced in tension as she remained frozen in place. His voice carried with it a note of exasperation as he said "I've naught to complain about and you got a good ride so off you go and if you're good I might be inclined to give you another toss tomorrow."

Carmilla's face turned thunderous and her mouth drew down into a hard line. Seeing her expression I thought to myself that she no longer looked the young and beautiful aristocrat but rather a dark stone angel or a furious warrior queen. The very visage of the winged death that strikes those which fail to appreciate the power of her anger radiated from the stark planes of her face.

In a flash it was gone and she was once again the delicate maiden with the Virgin's serene expression. I wondered if her woodsman had seen the visceral hate flash across her countenance but it appeared he took no notice of her now that he concluded his exertion.

My stomach twisted and I could smell the foul animal fear leaking from my skin. Something was very wrong but I cannot explain even now all these years later why I was suddenly terrified beyond all sense and reason. The woodsman failed to notice any difference but the very air around him hummed with a dark malevolent purpose. Although if he only had been granted the sense God gave to the lowest of his creatures he would have been shaken to his very soul instead he added insult to injury further compounding his error to the brooding angry creature still astride him. Pushing at her lightly he said, "Right then, off you get. I've work to do and I'm done with you."

Carmilla laughed long and loud then leaned in, "No my fine steed for I'm not done with you, not at all."

Leaning into him with all her weight she growled, "I _shall _have my satisfaction this day!"

In a blur her hands locked onto his head and black shining hair whipped round her face shielding her from my view. A terrified shout ripped through the air but was as swiftly cut off. I did not dare to raise my head but strained my eyes in an attempt to discern what was happening. I had not long to wait for events to unfold. Carmilla lifted her head and I could see blood running freely from her mouth, down her neck onto her breasts. She looked vital and energized her normal languid composure a thing of the past. Tossing her hair back she beamed her happiness to the sky with a smile the likes of which I had never seen on her face.

Some moments later she seemed to return to her senses and lowered her head to stare at the woodsman who now wore a dullard's expression. Leaning in she kissed him on the forehead leaving a bloody smear. "Now you know the truth of it for if you fail to satisfy me one way I shall find another for you even if you find the cost rather dear."

She continued to stare at him like a child that finds a pretty toy but has grown bored with it and no longer wants to play. With a frown creasing her angelic face, she placed one of her hands on his head giving it a violent shove backwards. The woodsman fell back into the grass and I could no longer see much beyond his bloodied chest amongst the verdant green. Carmilla slowly stood and pivoting on one foot she turned towards where I was feigning sleep with my eyes tightly shut. As she paced towards me I strove with the utmost effort to keep my breathing even so as not to alert her that I had witnessed her violent attack. I thought I would go mad when I felt her stop and stand over me as if determining the truth of whether or not I was truly slumbering. After what seemed an interminable time she moved on and I heard her stalk off towards the water. Splashing and humming reached my ears and still I hid my awareness of her presence. My mind and emotions were stretched beyond my capabilities and I must have swooned into unconsciousness for when I woke the sun had shifted in the sky. Yawning and stretching I found Carmilla sitting fully dressed under a tree reading the book she had so casually discarded earlier.

"Ah sleeping beauty awakes. Had you continued on in dreamland I should have been forced to wake you before the castle sent out a search party to find us."

Lowering her eyes like a naughty child she said, "My darling Laura I have a confession to make to you." I opened my mouth to deny her words for I did not want to be a party to what she had done. "Nay" raising her hand for me to wait she said with a guilty voice, "I must tell you that I added a pinch of opium to the wine to enhance its effect and I fear it may have caused you some unpleasant dreams for you did thrash and cry out in your sleep. I would not ever want to cause you harm and I pray you suffered no ill effects. Can you forgive me for my rash actions?"

My conscience was instantly relieved for what I had believed to be true was nothing more than a drug induced sleep! Being in want of a true friend I forgave her instantly for her foolish actions and begged her to always consider me her most trusted companion. Quickly addressing my lack of clothing I swiftly dressed for now I was hungry and wanted nothing more than to be within the estate walls. The sun would be setting soon and I feared being unarmed in the woods after dusk. After all who knew what creatures roamed the woods in search of prey once the sun had faded into memory.

Walking back to the castle I noted the sullen pace she set and attempted to cheer her; for did we not just have a most enjoyable interlude? I bit my lip wondering if perhaps I had offended her in some fashion. I drew closer to her side as we strolled in silence but she did not acknowledge my presence. Casting my eyes her way it would have apparent to even the sightless that something was vexing her. Her gaze was locked ahead and took no note of the beauty in which we walked nor the anxious tension that surely must have radiated from my body. In the most gentle of approaches I touched the hand dangling nearest mine and felt my fingertips graze hers. Feeling the shudder my touched induced I recoiled in unhappiness.

In these mysterious moods I did not like her. I experienced a strange tumultuous excitement that was pleasurable, ever and anon, mingled with a vague sense of fear and disgust. I had no distinct thoughts about her while such scenes lasted, but I was conscious of a love growing into adoration, and also of abhorrence. This I know is paradox, but I can make no other attempt to explain the feeling.


	5. Chapter 5

I now write, after an interval of more than ten years, with a trembling hand, with a confused and horrible recollection of certain occurrences and situations, in the ordeal through which I was unconsciously passing; though with a vivid and very sharp remembrance of the main current of my story.

But, I suspect, in all lives there are certain emotional scenes, those in which our passions have been most wildly and terribly roused, that are of all others the most vaguely and dimly remembered while only a select few remain razor sharp.

Sometimes after these infrequent apathetic withdrawals, my strange and beautiful companion would take my hand and hold it with a fond pressure, renewed again and again; blushing softly, gazing in my face with languid and burning eyes, and breathing so fast that her dress rose and fell with the tumultuous respiration. It was like the ardor of a true lover; it embarrassed me; it was hateful and yet over-powering; and with gloating eyes she would draw me to her, and her hot lips traveled along my cheek in kisses; and she would whisper, almost in sobs, "You are mine, you _shall _be mine, you and I are one heart forever." Then she would throw herself back, with her small hands over her eyes, leaving me trembling.

"Are we related," I used to ask; "what can you mean by all this? I remind you perhaps of someone whom you love; but you must not, I hate it; I don't know you—I don't know myself when you look so and talk so. I am so confused by my feelings and I blush to think of the things we have done. We dare not continue with these games; for if Father should find out I cannot say how great would be his shame."

She used to sigh at my vehemence, then turn away and drop my hand.

Respecting these very extraordinary manifestations I strove in vain to form any satisfactory theory—I could not refer them to affectation or trick. It was unmistakably the momentary breaking out of suppressed instinct and emotion. Was she, notwithstanding her mother's volunteered denial, subject to brief visitations of insanity; or was there here, a disguise and a romance? I had read in old storybooks of such things. In a few stories I recalled a boyish lover had found his way into the house, and sought to prosecute his suit in masquerade, with the assistance of a clever old adventuress. But there were many things against this hypothesis, highly interesting as it was to my vanity. First and foremost was the un-escapable fact that Carmilla was undeniably a woman. A mental defect of some sort seemed to be the more valid possibility. I vaguely recalled reading in one of my history books somewhere or other, that insanity was rife within the Spanish royal bloodline; one of their Queens was even known as Joanna the Mad while another prince was locked away as he was far too insane and dangerous to ever take the throne.

Perhaps Carmilla carried within her some taint that had infected her maternal line, leaving her unstable. Was it the possibility of shame exposed that induced the paranoid privacy about her family and background? Each family line if it is long and inbred enough will sprout the occasional embarrassment which is kept hidden if at all possible. Then I wondered if flights of fancy were causing me to place far too much importance on these incidents. Perhaps I was seeking a distraction in detecting her background.

I continued to wonder if perhaps my mind were disturbed by the recent deaths in the nearby village. Was I seeing shadows were none existed? After news was brought of two more young women wasting during the week from an unknown illness I could not shake the sense of despair that seemed to invade the very air I breathed.

A few days of angst had caused me to be overwrought leaving me with a vague sense of malaise that I could not seem to shake. Since our stroll in the woods Carmilla had pleaded exhaustion and kept to her room while I roamed the castle as the late summer rain kept me in doors. The Tuesday next found me lighter in heart as the grey clouds had retreated leaving soft white wisps trailing across a pastel sky. Father found me sitting in the kitchen garden lost in empty thoughts of no consequence. Sitting down beside me, he leaned his shoulder against mine and asked whether or not I was going to squander such a beautiful day moping about. I gave him a wan smile and asked if he had found success on his newest business venture for he had been away the past few days.

"Yes my dear, it has proven most satisfactory. I've been working on this for quite some time and it will greatly improve our financial future allowing for much needed improvements to the estate and a healthy settlement upon you when a suitable husband has been found."

Slapping his hands upon his thighs he grinned like a school boy, "As a matter of course it has already enriched our coffers greatly this year but I had not wanted to draw against it until I was sure but I'll not trouble you with the details of business."

Taking my hand in his he reached out and placed the other under my chin drawing my face round to his. "Laura you must understand I do this all for you; my beloved only child." His eyes crinkled in a smile, "But know this, I will not insist you marry for security or position. Unlike many of the grasping social climbers I have no need or desire to form an alliance through marriage to the aristocracy. I know how very cruel it can be to deny one's love and heart to the ambition of others."

His eyes looked inward into another time and he continued on in a tone that conveyed loss and betrayal. "You see I was not destined for the Foreign Service but rather the management of great estates, a mining and trade company along with an equally wealthy and titled wife."

Then a swift smile lit up his face, "Ah but I met your mother and all my parent's ambitions for me were undone in one tick of the clock. I was resigned to marriage with a woman I liked but did not love. Telling myself that I would grow to love her and fully acknowledging her connection to the royal family would greatly raise my own fortune I had accepted my fate. But it was not to be for at the Michael mass Ball just six months before my wedding I saw her across the room. Your mother dressed not in the height of fashion but in something that suited her as no other dress could have. She was unlike all other woman there; as tall as most men she was not displayed in the virginal white like so many others but in brilliant deep burgundy. I felt I would suffocate if I did not gain an introduction at once."

Sighing with memory he continued on, "I prevailed upon a friend; the Duke of Essex to ascertain if he knew this girl. He himself was unsure until he saw the man standing at her side. Glancing up at the interloper I was panicked that perhaps he was her husband but luck was with me for he was her father acting as chaperon for the night's entertainment. As it turned out your dear Mother could not have been what my parent's would have welcomed for while her father was a celebrated painter he was not titled even worse he was Irish. Nonetheless I courted and married her not once regretting my decision though it cost me dearly. For you see my parents anger was so great they cast me aside for my younger brother and he gained the title of Earl with all the coin and land that came with it. Although I am quite sure my Mama regrets the decision since Bernard has squandered the family fortune through gambling and vice but she will never voice her mistake in polite society. Yet I gained a love that I have never once regretted sacrificing all for; short a time as it was."

I had grown still as this was the most information regarding my family connections that Papa had ever before given voice to. Curiosity overruled good taste and I asked, "Is grand-mama still alive? Do you correspond? Have I any cousins?"

"Ah yes she is far too stubborn to die without a fight and I have received a monthly letter from her since your Mama died. She is quite well having an independent income that Papa could not touch through her own family and still holds her own lands but she is weary of Bernard's failure to sire anything but children on the wrong side of the sheets. She fears my paternal titles will pass back to the Lord Marshall as unclaimed which will return many of the lands that remain back to the crown."

Wringing his hands he said, "While I would not force you into a marriage you do not desire I admit that I am considering marriage for myself."

Shocked beyond words as I never had given a thought to what Papa would need beyond his life with me I realized how selfish I had been. He was not yet forty-five years of age and might have decades before him. I flung my arms about him apologizing if I had kept him from seeking happiness with a new wife that might give him comfort and company once I was a married woman in my own home.

"Papa I could not bear it if I was the cause of your lonely existence, please forgive me and find love again."

"Nay my child, do not trouble yourself. I think for far too many years I held every woman I met against the ghost of your mother and found her wanting. It was the loss and grief which kept me shut away. Throwing myself into work and your care I sought nothing more than to keep her memory alive but now realize that I do not have to stop loving her but rather that I have room in my heart to also love another."

Hugging me close he said, "To that end I have a surprise for you. Today you will take the carriage to the dressmaker, glover and haberdasher; each of them is expecting you today. You are to order a new winter and spring wardrobe and do not fail to order a few ball gowns for this winter I am hosting a Christmas Ball in honor of your mother. Madame will accompany you and I have booked rooms for you at the finest hotel. I want you to have fun, go to the theatre, explore the museum, dine and come back refreshed for you have been casting a sad shadow on the castle walls of late. If Carmilla is feeling well invite her along and have yourselves a holiday."

I could scarcely recognize my father for he seemed a new man as if years had fled from his face. Thanking him with words and kisses he laughed in delight and sent me off to dress for my outing. I knew it would take two days travel to reach Vienna and I was breathless with excitement. Never before had been allowed to travel beyond the confines of the estate without Papa and now I was off on an adventure! Racing through the kitchen I stopped and hugged Cook and shouted, "I'm off to Vienna and I shall return to see you before I leave. If there is anything you require from the city make me a list and I shall see it fulfilled!"

Cook giggled and spun me round then laughingly sent me on my way. Two hours later Madame Perrodon, Carmilla and I were in the open carriage. We waved a goodbye to Papa as Thomas guided the horses over the bridge. George and Hans rode behind us on handsome bay cobs trying to hide their grins as they followed. Carmilla seemed much refreshed after her bed rest and chattered brightly about the delights we might sample in Vienna.

Stopping in the village at Madame's request for a rest we decided to wander the local shops and enjoy our afternoon tea before continuing on prior to stopping midway for the night. Stepping into Bormann's I ordered drinks sent out to the men and asked Carmilla if she cared to accompany me to the shops first or if she would prefer her tea. Shrugging her shoulders she did not voice a preference so I grabbed her hand and dragged her back to the street.

"Come along then for Papa also gave me this." I handed her a small leather pouch and she stared at it blankly.

"Take it, it's for you. Papa wanted to give you some funds of your own to purchase something to cheer you. There is enough for a few dresses and ribbons. Your mother was in such a rush she did not think to provide for you, but then she could not have known we would be given this brilliant holiday."

I waited while she stood in the stream of people that parted around us and was most distressed to see tears well up and spill past her lashes. I was at a loss to comprehend why a child of the aristocracy would be so distressed by such a small offering. Hanging her head she stood there looking lost and desolate as if her heart was breaking.

"Carmilla, my dearest friend what has caused you such anguish? I would not for the world cause you harm. Please I beg of you; if I have done anything to hurt you I am vexed at myself. Darling be of good cheer and let us enjoy our day."

She sniffed and gave me a weak smile. "No Laura you misunderstand me. It has just been so long, so very long since another offered me such kindness without thought of gain for themselves. I weep for the innocence that I have lost which has caused me to harden my heart against others for fear they would bring me to harm."

Tossing her head back she blinked away her misty eyes and laughed in joy.

"Come let us lighten our purses with something pretty that will convince your father it was well spent!"

With that she slipped her arm through mine and we strolled off with Thomas following discretely behind. The village was a good size and we happily tramped along the sidewalks peaking into shop windows and calling out a cheery hello to anyone that smiled our way.

We saw one shop that catered to ladies with ready-to-wear garments and hats displayed in the window. Carmilla raised an eyebrow and said, "Shall we see what is on offer here?"

I followed her in listening to the murmur of conversation which slowed when the tinkling bell announced our arrival as we pushed through the door. Ladies of all ages were happily gossiping although none would ever admit they were doing more than exchanging pleasantries on the fine weather. We wandered along looking into the glass cases chatting about nothing in particular. Carmilla had spied something and wandered off to the far end of the store while I was looking at spools of colored ribbons. I was lost in contemplating the many choices before me when I became aware of four ladies nearby. Their conversation arrested my attention. I stilled myself and continued to finger the various ribbon textures as I listened.

"The doctor said he was so violently torn that it could only have been done by a deranged animal."

"Oh Lord! I heard the priest became ill when he was called to prepare the holy oils for burial. Mrs. Shecken said his head was left hanging by a thread; can you imagine?"

A third voice chimed in, "Have you heard the men have been searching the woods but have found no evidence beyond tracks? Yet my Stefan said he'd never seen tracks like this. I heard him telling the cobbler that there were two types of tracks. An unusual pair of one animal almost like a giant house cat had left them then others that indicate a pack of some sort yet all the tracks are over-sized and not of any animal the men say reside in these parts."

"I heard from Esille that her husband the good Reverend is sure some type of demon stalks the woods seeking only those with evil intentions and as long as we remain true it shall not bring us any harm."

A sarcastic and indelicate snort from Carmilla gave comment to that theory. I casually turned my head and found five ladies of the village gathered around at the end of the table not more than a few feet from where I stood. They took no notice of me and continued on; "My oldest boy was in the sheep folds and came in days before he was due. I was outside and heard him driving the sheep as fast as he could. He was drawn and shaken but would not tell me what ailed him. Even the dogs seemed harried and out of sorts. Tis not till my husband returned from the market that I winkled it out."

A laugh interrupted this and I turned my head to see a red cheeked woman say, "Nay you did not winkle it out but I would wager that you stretched your ears to the door."

"Well it's true but my boy said that some black beast had been prowling around terrifying him and the livestock. He believed it was only the dogs that kept them safe for they exhausted themselves driving it off. After three nights of terror he decided that it was better to bring them in early than to risk his life in the high meadows."

I nearly jumped out of my shoes when Carmilla grasped the ribbon from my hand. She giggled and asked me what had me so engaged that I had stood like a stone figure for the better part of ten minutes. "Listen, those women live round these parts and they say a man was killed by a dangerous beast that hunts the woods."

She smirked and said, "Really dear Laura, monsters in the night? After all do not most of the fairy tales come from this part of Europe? It's just more nonsense to scare their children into behaving."

"No it's not, listen. They say a black creature is responsible. The man was mutilated and the men have found strange tracks in the woods. Another said her son saw a giant animal prowling the high meadows."

Carmilla grew still and waited with me as we pretended to debate a purchase. The ladies had continued on not noticing our engagement in their conversation.

"Did you hear what else? The gypsies have returned. They've not been here since I was a girl. I saw some of the women shopping last week but since the Reverend was glaring at them I did not bid them good day as they passed." She sighed, "My mother would have been ashamed of me for she was part Romany and said that gypsies were like all other people; some were good and some were bad and it was wrong for them all to be judged as charlatans and thieves."

The ill tempered looking fat lady said, "I wouldn't be surprised if they brought the wolves with them! A few nights ago I heard howling coming from beyond the lower vale and I know what a wolf sounds like. They will use this to sell us charms of protection and spells to keep the evil at bay. Evil they very well have brought themselves!"

The other ladies glanced nervously amongst themselves. The lady in green who had stated she shared Romany blood looked annoyed. Raising her head, squaring her shoulders and looking down her nose; she sharply said, "Well then would you also blame the gypsies for the illness that has sickened so many of the young? Girls and boys have been wasting and dying for weeks and the gypsies have only just arrived. So which is it then? Evil spirits, divine retribution, monsters, wolves or something else altogether for truly I am more inclined to think the Devil walks among us than to blame the gypsies or monsters." Without excusing herself she walked away.

I turned to Carmilla and raised my eyebrows. "Well what do you make of all this?"

Her face was unreadable and her eyes settled on something distant only she could see. "What do I think? Nothing dear heart for this is nothing but the superstitious chatter of small minded people who seek an explanation for that which they cannot understand. Disease can come at any time and take anyone. All this nonsense of monsters and devils is nothing more than simple minded people avoiding logical thought and reasoning."

Her gaze returned to me and she huffed out a sharp breath of air. Shaking her head in disgust she muttered, "Rubbish, strewn by fools." With that biting comment she stomped off to the door and stepped onto the sidewalk. Without waiting for me she disappeared from view.

Unsure of the source for her outburst I went in search of her but could not see her amongst the pedestrians so I returned to the tea shop. Taking my seat at the table Madame Perrodon had secured I inquired if she had seen Carmilla. Receiving an assurance that she had just removed herself to freshen up for tea I sighed with relief for I had no desire to return home and announce to Father that I had lost his charge and my dearest friend no matter how confusing her actions.

Carmilla remained silent and puckish throughout our lunch pleading a headache. She picked morosely at her meal while I filled my belly but it was unsatisfying with the evident strain filling our table and dampening my enjoyment on this first day of our holiday. Madame remained oddly silent after clearing her plate. Instead of chattering our ears off as was her norm she sipped her tea and watched Carmilla through lowered eyes.

The remaining days were better as once we reached Vienna for Carmilla seemed much her old self; cheerful and exuberant she relished our excursions into the theatre after dinner. The days were spent wandering the gardens, museums and shops enjoying our blossoming friendship as we discovered all the city had to offer.

Upon our return to the estate I sensed a change within myself. I felt as if I had come into my own; confident and secure in my person I reveled in my newfound identity. Only a few days after our return I took Carmilla with me to the village with no real purpose in mind; but rather an afternoon jaunt to pick up some items I had ordered. Her mood swings had continued and I thought perhaps if we took an afternoon drive it might restore her emotional balance. I would learn to regret my generous impulse.

I could boast of no little attentions such as masculine gallantry delights to offer and had taken notice of the smiles that came my way during our trip to Vienna. At first I was sure that the gentlemen were including me only as I was in the company of the delicate and fragile looking Carmilla. I had believed myself too tall and rounded to conform to the current waifish empire look. Yet I found myself shocked and surprised to realize that I gained as much attention if not more when Carmilla was absent during her frequent spells as I did when she remained at my side. Since Father had announced he would not expect me to shark my way through society to snare a rich husband I could re-think my dress and find alternatives that were better suited to my frame. Many of my new dresses were ordered to fit at the waist and with these I no longer looked like a giant mushroom from those awful empire waistlines. Frankly I'd always thought that style rendered adult women to the status of a child in her pinafore.

On that morning I had chosen one of my new dresses; simple royal blue fitted with buttons and a matching hat. Carmilla had let her eyes run up and down my new clothing and sneered, "Do you not wish to be seen as fashionable? That cut has not been popular in a half century; whatever were you thinking?"

Determined not to let her ill mood spoil the day I sighed and said, "Dearest Carmilla, I have decided to dress only to please myself not the doyens of society. I hate the empire fashion! I look like an upside down Doric column in those dresses. This suits me and who knows? Perhaps I shall become a setter of fashion. Now if you are done berating me for my morning dress then I suggest we go for the carriage is waiting and I wish to be gone."

I attempted to lighten the mood as we drove the light gig to town but Carmilla would have none of it. She sulked once again and kept her head turned away staring at the tree's and small farms as we bounced along the roadway. I decided to ignore her and happily waved to people that we passed but Carmilla continued to sit with her hands in her lap staring at nothing. After we had traveled some distance I noticed an odd sound and began to glance about in an attempt to discern its cause. I could not see anything that might give rise to concern but upon glancing at Carmilla I could see that she had gone rigid in her seat. I feared greatly that perhaps she was in the grip of some kind of fit so I pulled back on the reins slowing the horse. Her head snapped my way and she looked most disturbed; her eyes were showing white all around and her mouth was open.

"No, don't slow. Don't stop. Can't you feel it? We are being stalked." Her voice was strained with fear. I looked around but could not see nor hear anything out of place.

"Are you sure?"

"I know. I always know when they are near." With that she grabbed the whip and lashed it across the horse's flanks sparking a fast canter and surprised squeal from the horse. The poor beast raced along the road as if the devil himself was driving the carriage until he began to labor and slow from exhaustion. Carmilla began flogging him to go faster while I feared not only for my safety but her sanity. It was not until we had gone some miles that I was able to pry the whip from her hand.

"Enough! Enough already. You'll drive him to death." I let the poor animal slow to a walk and found that both Carmilla and the horse were panting.

"Whatever has gotten into you? You scared me half to death! You could have killed us both with that mad galloping; not to mention the poor horse."

I was furious with her. There was nothing out there, I'd heard nothing, seen nothing but livestock and familiar faces yet she'd panicked as if some slavering beast had been steps away.

"Look at what you have done! He's blowing so hard his traces are soaking wet. Sweet Jesus you have bloodied him. There are gashes which will scar. Not to mention he must be in considerable pain. Father will be furious! It's a miracle he didn't break a leg and take us to our deaths."

"I'm sorry." She hung her head and shuddered. "I don't know what came over me. I felt….something. I don't know what else to say. It wished me harm and I've done naught to deserve it."

She wept desolate tears and I found myself struggling with annoyance for her actions and a growing fear that she might be ill. Dropping the reins I wrapped my arms around her and promised her she would come to no harm. I loved her and would ever be her friend.

"Truly? Please Laura do not lie to me for I could not bear it if you were to abandon me. I've endured so much, more than anyone should. You cannot begin to imagine what I've been through. It sometimes feels as if I've been suffering for a thousand years never to be myself again; never to know true happiness."

I assured her that my love and friendship would remain constant. She clung to me and sobbed. After some damp moments she raised her tear streaked face to me and said, "You are all I have, all that remains between myself and the abyss that calls to me."

I thought her overly dramatic but realized there was nothing for it to be done. As I was leaning back from her embrace I noticed a movement deep in the brush. I strained my eyes at the distance and could just make out a male figure in the shadows. He was staring hard at me as if I should know him. I racked my memories but could not place him. He was so still that I began to question if Carmilla's fantasies had infected my judgment. As I began to turn away convinced my imagination was getting the better of my good senses he gave the slightest bow from the waist with his right hand placed over his heart. My scalp tingled and I reached for the reins with my left hand. Still watching him I told the horse to walk on. Carmilla remained slumped in her seat taking no notice of my actions. My eyes remained fixed on him; not in fear but in uncertainty as his actions did not appear hostile. Then he stepped back and for the slightest moment was illuminated in a sliver of dappled sunlight. I caught a flash of silver across his face; then he was gone, lost to the forest and my view.

Upon arrival I placed the horse in well maintained stable and explained he'd been spooked. There was no reason to tell the truth; that it was Carmilla who had been spooked and the horse abused greatly as a result. The stable groom assured me he would un-harness the poor creature and see him cared for. Yet I could not stop the blush of shame rioting across my face when the groom stared at the open welts Camilla had caused.

The groom looked hard at me and said, "He will need hours of rest and even so the harness will irritate his injuries further….," he trailed off as he was no doubt simply too angry to go on.

The groom looked furiously at us both and said he would place ointment on the wounds but it would be best if we hired a horse for the return trip. He called for assistants and said that he himself would follows us back on another mount which I knew meant he did not trust us not to abuse another animal and he would take the horse back with him rather than risk leaving him overnight with us. I could not explain the poor creature's condition and assured him that father could have one of his personal grooms return for this injured animal in a few days. As I stepped back I hesitated for a moment and apologized again. Then moving to the horse I rubbed his ears and begged his forgiveness. Carmilla looked bored and wanted to be off. Raising my eyes to the groom I apologized for her rudeness.

He shrugged and said, "I am thinking you were too young when I left to recall who I am."

"No sir, you have a familiar look about you but I do not believe I know you."

"Your father and I have a friendship that goes back many years. My father was once the horse master and after my apprenticeship I spent many months training some of your father's stallions when you were but a young girl. I would not have thought it was in your nature to be cruel to a beloved horse."

I gazed beseechingly at him, "It was not I that opened his hide but I am also to blame for I could not stop it until the damage was already done."

He looked askance as if he doubted my story but then seeing the horror in my face at the horse's bleeding he gazed over my shoulder and frowned. "I'll bet that one will feel no guilt." Spitting into the dust he said that he would have another mount ready when it was time for us to depart.

I suggested that since it would be some time before we could set off home again I told Carmilla we should make a day of it and would leave before dusk so that we were safely home in time for dinner. She acquiesced without complaint and followed me without further comment. I became more aware of the single men in the village as it seemed I was not the only one who approved of my new dress. I took Carmilla to the inn in order to obtain some refreshments, thinking perhaps a sweet drink would restore her composure. Slowly she regained her presence of mind to engage me in conversation yet she remained stilted and wary of her surroundings. I did my utmost to be an agreeable companion yet I noticed she did not eat instead pushing her plate away as if the smell of food had disturbed her delicate nostrils. I was finding it a most difficult chore to continue chatting of inconsequential nonsense while she remained lost within her own thoughts. After a short time I suggested we browse among the shops so that I could pick up the sundries I had ordered a few days past. Carmilla remained listless and distracted which only served to increase my worry that her state of health was not as it should be for young woman. Some hours later she seemed to revive and smiling at me apologized for her earlier fright.

"Tis not like me to be so fanciful and I do apologize for the way I acted. I hope that you can find it in yourself to forgive my rash actions." She simpered and gazed about her as if she was a child that could not meet adult eyes for her embarrassment.

Yet I knew that look. It was also one that beauty uses to manipulate another. I had seen her use that same expression on my father when she had overstepped the bounds of propriety and wished to alter his views about her. I wondered if men were bound to fall prey to any beautiful woman that begged forgiveness behind a mask of sweet innocence. It seemed she was a true lady of the aristocracy; far better to ask for forgiveness after bad behavior than seek permission for one's actions or learn to guard one's ill temper. I decided to play along with this charade for I knew her to be capable of the most violent of emotional impulses.

"No dear one. I shall not be aggrieved for you have been under a great deal of strain with your mother gone and I'm sure time weighs heavily upon you."

She mumbled something I could not make out. I was vexed with her but failed to see how anger would salve her mood. Deciding to make the best of it I wandered aimlessly from shop to shop until we came upon the church. Standing before the great oak doors I said, "Come I shall light a candle and make an offering for your safety and happiness." She reeled back from me and cried, "Why? What has God ever done for me? He hears not my prayers yet you think he would lend an ear to you on my behalf?"

"Carmilla," I pleaded, "Please your voice is most strident. People can hear you and you'll make no friends here if you offend them speaking against God in public."

Leaning into her I whispered, "For the love of God, it's not been that many years since women were burned to death for even looking askance at a neighbor. Witch, they were labeled and dragged off to their death for nothing more than being old or without a husband."

She shrugged with indifference and allowed herself to be motioned up the church steps. I could feel eyes upon us as we walked within but nodded my head politely in greeting. Carmilla looked around askance but refrained from further outbursts for which I was most grateful. Dropping some coppers into the offering box I took a burning taper and lit a candle for my mother. Closing my eyes I prayed that she was well and happy in heaven. Telling her I missed her and asking her to watch over me until we met again; I kissed my finger and ran it through the flame. I lit a candle for Father and then one for Carmilla. The last candle hissed, spit and flared out.

I blinked in surprise but realized the wick must have been left too long. I flicked my eyes towards Carmilla but realized gratefully she remained unaware. I lowered the taper again and the wick caught properly but the flame gave off an acrid odor. Wrinkling my nose in distaste I wondered if the candle-maker had taken on a new apprentice. I stepped back and realized that Carmilla was no longer nearby. Turning round in panic for I feared her actions if she was in the throes another one of her fits; I spied her standing before a statue of the Virgin. Sighing in relief I strolled over and waited a few steps away in case she had need of me.

Soft words of anguish and bleak despair reached my ears. She stared upwards into the stone face and said, "Why? Why me? I did nothing to deserve my fate! I have begged and pleaded to no avail. Can I not be saved? Can nothing be done? Shall I suffer forever without comfort and love?"

Her head sagged forward and her shoulders began to shake. She was weeping as if her heart should shatter and nothing could heal her. I froze and felt my chest ache in sympathy for her. Slowly her head rose and one hand swiped away her tears.

Anger ripped through her words as she spat in defiance; "Nothing, as always for there is no one to hear and no one to care. God is not here but I am. Doomed forever, cursed for all time so why should others be carefree when I alone know the ugly truth? We are alone and yet none are so alone as I.

Her words were shocking but who in truth has not railed against God when prayers go unanswered? When my Mama died I begged, bargained and pleaded but she remained cold and still until she was buried. I could not chide Carmilla for her heated sentiment as clearly something was tearing her soul apart. She continued to glare at the marble Virgin and once again her head slipped onto her chest as she crumpled to her knees.

Without tears, in a little girl lost voice she crooned, "Alone, always alone, alone, alone…." The words trailed off and I pitied her.

She appeared to shrink unto herself as her arms wrapped round her own chest and she rocked softly on her knees; back and forth as a child does to comfort itself. A scent made itself known; glancing around I did not see the door open and turning slowly in place I could see no window that had been un-shuttered yet scent grew stronger. A warm breeze carried the aroma of lilacs; it wafted around us growing more intense with each passing moment. Carmilla sniffed and her eyes grew round. Then terror washed over her face and she stumbled backwards tripping over the hem of her dress.

I reached over and placed my hand on her shoulder. "It's alright. I am here. There is nothing to fear."

I could feel her trembling and she arched back screaming, "What would you have me do? Tell me?" Then she fainted.

The priest came running and knelt beside her. "Do you need a physician?"

"I do not know Father. She was praying before the Virgin and collapsed. She has not been well of late and I fear she was overcome."

He patted a wet cloth on her forehead and then slowly rose and said, "Child, do you smell that?"

By this time others had gathered around and were clucking in concern over Carmilla who remained lying on the floor senseless. Noses were lifted like hounds on a scent and the sound of anxious chatter increased. The priest lifted her and she was gently set onto a bench by the altar.

I fretted over her collapse and then remembered; saying in a fast rush, "Father she's not been eating much. She picked over breakfast and lunch. Perhaps she is weak from hunger."

"Ah that could easily do it, especially a child so frail and delicate looking."

He ordered bread, cheese and water be brought at once. Carmilla began to moan and shift her limbs about. The priest whispered to her that all was well, her friends were here and that she was in good company.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open and she found me watching her. "Laura, I am so sorry to have caused you such embarrassment."

Turning her head she regarded the priest and smiled, "Please forgive me for disturbing you Father. I was merely overwrought from the lilacs. I do believe I am not well disposed to certain smells."

The priest looked flustered and assisted her to sit upright. Glancing round he saw the food had arrived and proffered the tray to her. "Please my child, eat something and it will set you to rights. I cannot abide you leaving the house of God in such a condition."

Carmilla dimpled prettily at him and took up the bread and cheese. "My thanks Father," she said in a sweet voice.

Biting into the bread lustily she reached for the beaker of water. To this day I have often wondered if I was the only one that noticed her slight hesitation as she gazed into the water. Shrugging her shoulders she took a sip then smiled. After devouring the food she announced herself to be restored and wished to not trouble the priest any longer.

As we were leaving she turned to pay her sincere compliments to the priest. "I thank you Father for I foolishly allowed myself to believe I had no friends in this world and you have shown me otherwise. Please I pray you pass on my good compliments to the cheese maker for it was most fine."

The priest smiled back showing a few missing molars and said, "My dear girl I certainly shall. Tis a Jesuit that lives in the old hermitage that makes it; truly it is the finest cheese to be found in these parts."

Her smiled slipped for the merest of seconds then she beamed at him; "With skills so self evident why does he not live closer to town?"

The priest shook his head and said, "Ah, my child he studies and for that he requires little distraction. The cheese making is from a small flock of goats he tends which he uses to support himself so that Mother Church can devote her monies to the aid and salvation of us all."

Carmilla wrinkled her nose at that and asked, "Does not the church provide for his needs?"

"Oh yes he draws whatever he needs that is necessary for his work and he makes the cheese which we sell to offset his expenses. He is a recluse by design not by necessity. I shall pay him your highest compliments when he returns in a fortnight."

Wishing the priest a good day we departed from the church. Carmilla gazed about the scene watching towns people and tradesmen going about their lives and sighed. "Would I be satisfied in the life of a hermit?"

Thinking that an odd question; I chided her. "How could we be friends if you were to shutter yourself away?"

Thinking to cheer her I slipped my arm through hers and patted her han

"Come and we shall try the bookseller; mayhap we might chance upon something new to read. I might even go so far as to venture that a marvelous story held in your hands would do much to distract you. I often find sleep comes easy to me if I take a book to bed."

For myself I loved the bookseller's stall, even as a child a trip here was almost as good as one to the sweet shop. Carmilla remained subdued but allowed me to lead her within even as I was saddened to see that she appeared to take no pleasure in it. I poked about and found a few new treasures for the shopkeeper to wrap. We exchanged pleasantries as I signed for my purchases yet when he asked if Carmilla had found anything to her liking I was stunned to see her looking so sickly. It was as if she was suffering from the onset of the mysterious illness which had recently plagued the area. Her skin had taken on a bluish tent and her lovely green eyes looked bruised. Deeply concerned for her welfare I asked the owner of Camilla could sit while I dashed back to the carriage. He assured me there was no need as he would dispatch his apprentice posthaste. Time seemed to drag interminably until I heard the carriage will stop just beyond the shop door. Carmilla appear to be growing weaker by the moment and I was terrified for her.

I clasped her hand and whispered, "My dear the carriage is here, let us go and see you safely home."

Glancing up at the shopkeeper and his apprentice, I said, "her skin is cold and I fear she is ill; would you be so kind as to assist us to the carriage?" Both men exchanged a worried glance.


	6. Chapter 6

Two nights later at dinner my father sighed and pushed back his chair.

"Laura it pains me to say this to you but I have spoken to Michael."

I kept my face composed as I had no idea who this Michael could be. "I saw the horse."

He did not need to say more. I was desperately ashamed and made no excuses.

"From now on," he continued, "You are not to ride anywhere alone with Carmilla. You will walk together if you choose but if you have need of a mount or carriage you will have a footman drive you or accompany you."

He looked at the empty seat where Carmilla should be sitting for the evening meal. Then straightening his shoulders said "Orders have been given; she is not allowed in the stables nor is she to be allowed to travel alone for any reason. I would not wish her harm and promised her mother to keep her safe but I will not allow her emotional condition to damage what is mine."

"Yes, Papa. I understand."

Without another word he quickly removed himself from the room. I sat in silence wallowing in my shame until I could stand it no longer and fled to my room.

Throwing myself onto the bed I felt unhappy and believed that somehow I was to blame. This situation with Carmilla was growing worse and I wondered if my compliance with her sexual games had somehow unhinged her mind. I felt weary and physically spent; falling asleep was my only escape and so I let myself drift away.

Sometime later I came awake in the darkness. Looking about I realized that only one lamp was lit and the room remained vague and dim to my eyes. I felt I was not alone and sat up, glancing this way and that but could see nothing beyond the shadows that lingered. Sighing that I must now face the long empty night without benefit of a servant to keep watch I began to think of Thomas. Wishing he was here, wanting him to hold me and tell me he would keep me safe.

I removed my clothing as I was feeling constricted by my dress which I had failed to remove prior to sleep. Standing naked I stretched and felt my muscles un-kink. Padding over to the balcony I stared at the stars through the glass and wondered what Thomas was doing at this moment. Was he asleep? Was he thinking of me? Did he have the slightest inkling of my feelings and would he have the courage to act upon them? Sighing in self pity I trudged back to the bed and flopped onto my back. I continued to fantasize about him and wished I had the daring to sneak out and slip into his bed.

Running my hands across my belly I closed my eyes and pretended they were Thomas' hands. I rubbed my breasts until my nipples puckered and could feel the heat well between my legs. With one hand roaming from side to side I ran the other through the short dark curls. Tugging and pressing against my palm I shifted round until I located the sweet spot that Carmilla had frigged with her tongue. Within moments I was gasping and digging my bottom against the mattress desperate to feel the rush. Muscles began to thrum and twitch of their own accord and I knew I was nearly there. Faster I flicked my fingers in a swirling motion until my hips thrust up in reaction as the light raced through my body leaving me sweating and tingling to the roots of my scalp.

Sated and sleepy I rolled onto my side and stared into the inky blackness that pooled against the glass. I let sleep overtake me and dropped off into pleasant dreams. I know not how much time had passed but I was awakened by a sound that foreign to my ears. A strange humming was rising from the corner where the settee was nearest the balcony doors. Lightning flashed in the distance and I was sure I'd seen Carmilla's eyes blink against the sudden radiance.

Her voice echoed as the thunder rolled across the woodland; "Tis naught but a dream."

I smiled in my lethargic state and with a dull face watched as she moved across the room. As I lay there I realized that there was no doubt that I was still asleep for Carmilla's face began to shift and melt only to reform itself into the very visage of Thomas; the longed for lover. Shadows surged around his body to cascade away leaving Thomas at the foot of my bed. A rough white work shirt hung loose over his chest and his legs were clad in dark wool pants. My heart raced as my eyes feasted on his form. Biting my lip I could not take my gaze from him as he smiled at me.

"Laura, my feelings for you have forced my hand. I would risk all to spend one night in your embrace."

I leaned upon one elbow and sighed. Reminding myself it was just I dream I reached out and offered my hand to the beautiful illusion before me. Luminous sea green eyes smiled back as his handsome lips parted flashing large white teeth.

He pulled back and tugged his shirt off over his head taking my breath as I raked my eyes over his muscled torso. My mouth watered and goose-bumps teemed as I gasped, "Dear God, nothing has ever looked so good. Please don't let me wake too soon."

A low rumbling laugh shook him and he promised me that I should not concern myself for the night was young and he would give me one that I'd not soon forget. I watched as his long fingered tanned hands pushed his pants past his hips. Once glance at the size of him and I felt my heart jerk as my thighs slammed shut. Dream or not I was not about to let that thing near me!

Scooting back across the bed I stared at him as he looked down at me. I crossed my arms over my breasts in embarrassment; the heat in his gaze seemed to sear my skin reminding me off my nudity. "Thomas, please you look at me so strangely do I displease you?"

"No you are perfect, every man's dream. I stare because I cannot help myself."

Feeling re-assured I opened my arms to welcome him into my bed. "Relax Laura, tonight will bring you nothing but pleasure."

He slid down next to me and wrapped his arms around me breathing deeply of my scent. I felt warm lips nuzzle my neck as he kissed his way up to my ear and whispered, "Tonight I will bring you such passion that you will wonder why you ever waited so long."

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sensations of his nearness and the touch of his fingers on my skin. He pulled me to him and snuggled his chest against my side forcing my left arm to crook over my head. I felt his hand linger around my neck and trace patterns across my collarbone then slowly it ran down between my breasts and made delicate circles around my belly button. I could feel my heart pound from the tension; wanting it so desperately and still being so very afraid.

He whispered, "Fear nothing, too long you have waited for man's touch and I would not rush this for your first time should be the sweetest of agonies."

For what seemed hours I lay there occasionally looking into his face as he simply allowed one hand to roam the traces and contours of my body like a blind man learning all through his fingertips. I kept my eyes closed for fear of seeing my wanton self and being so shamed I would not be able to continue.

I felt his lips pressed against mine; the kiss was hot sweet as his hand cupped my face to him. I was lost and loving it he rolled on top of me and I could feel myself grow rigid; with a smile bravely in place I said, "I love you and always will love you."

I felt him push harder against me, stretching me uncomfortably to the point where I felt myself pulling away as his assurances fell on deaf ears. For I became frightened he was too big, the pain was too much.

"No Thomas please," I whimpered, "I cannot…. I cannot do this, it hurts."

He retreated and I could feel his throbbing cock lying across my belly. I was terrified because it had hurt even more than I expected and I was terrified of the loss that would consume me if I did not see this through.

He cupped my face in his hands and said, "Open your eyes, see me, love me, give yourself willing only to me; I cannot do this without your consent."

In answer pulled his mouth to mine. I kissed him deeply with my eyes wide open, and whispered; "I am yours do with me as you will."

His teeth shined into the night as his smile loomed above me like a light in the dark. I kept my eyes locked onto his and felt his thighs slide mine apart as he shifted forward onto his elbows and continued running his fingers along my jaw into my hair until I felt something; pressing, pressing, hard, hot and insistent against my nether lips. I tried not to clutch in tension but could not help myself he shushed me and whispered, "Let me in."

I tried; I tried so hard to relax but I was fairly shaking with the fear of anticipated pain. I could feel him pushing against me but I could not relax enough for him for him to enter. Tonight it appeared I would remain a virgin but he continued rocking his hips in circles trying to push forward all to no avail it seemed the castle keep was locked down from all invaders

I felt tears dripping across my lashes; how could a woman want something so much and yet her body denied her that which she sought so desperately?

"I want this, please try again."

He shushed me, "Laura you were made for this. You just have to learn to let go. Let me show you how."

I smiled weakly for I was embarrassed something so natural and so very right was being offered to me and I was recalling in fear. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribs. My hips rising up of their own accord yet I could still not relax.

He gave a warm chuckle and said, "All you need is time. Time and attention and you shall find the woman you were meant to be."

I sighed and gave myself over to him. He nuzzled my breasts and drew circles on my nipples with his tongue. Grazing his teeth across them; driving me to distraction while one hand snaked down and buried itself in my center.

Stroking me so softly, running his hands upon the inside of my thighs and back to the hot, wet core of my being. Teasing me; tormenting me, making me gasp and beg for more hot kisses. He laughed in delight at my pleadings and left a wet trail down to my newly trimmed thatch. Then he rose up on his knees and was so still; just watching me that I could not help gazing at him in admiration.

I stared as if to lock into my memory. My God; to my eyes he was beautiful. Such broad shoulders with long, thick muscled arms and he was all mine!

He knelt before me and my heart soared; I would not be afraid. I would risk all to be bold on this night. He had his hands on my knees and began to stroke the insides of my legs with his thumbs and then he lowered himself as if he was kneeling prostrate before an altar. He puckered up and blew across my legs, chilling me and sending icy trickles across my skin. His left arm snaked around my thigh and reach down, parting my hair and I felt his mouth lock onto me. Dear God, the sensation was so powerful my scalp was tingling. My arms flopped weakly to the side as I told myself to think, to think; just feel, concentrate on the sensation of touch. Don't think of what is happening or what you might feel tomorrow; just feel his tongue, his mouth, his teeth-nothing else. They ran across me, licking, sucking and pulling until I was thrusting my hips up to meet him and shuddering, panting as if I'd been running a race.

The tension began to build and I felt my hands grasp the sheets grasping anything to keep from spinning off into space. I had them balled up in my fists as my bottom rose off the bed until only my feet and shoulders were touching the mattress. Then it started the quivering and shaking. I was falling to earth through my spine bowed and I was left spastic, nearly incoherent when through the fog of my desire I heard him laugh.

He chuckled and said, "And you feared you might be frigid. I think I have just proved you wrong however to make the rest as pleasurable for you I need you to roll over."

I opened my eyes and looked at him wondering why should I roll over? He grabbed my hips and flipped me onto my side smacked my bottom and said, "Come now girl, up on your knees. I have decided that this is the way you will feel the least amount of pain and the greatest amount of pleasure. I will remain still while you decide the speed and course of the next round."

And so I braced myself on hands and knees then slowly scooted back until I could feel his legs between my own. He placed a hand upon my hip and said,

"Now I shall keep one hand here and with the other I shall hold myself level. This will allow you to guide yourself onto me, lean back and you'll be the one in charge. Take as much time as you want, as much cock as you want and I shall not force you to do otherwise."

I took a deep breath and rocked myself back slightly and felt my thighs and bottom pucker in protest at the invasion and yet still I drove on. I wanted more. I wanted it all; all of the heat and the feel his body. I grimaced when I realized that I was acting and thinking like a common whore and yet I loved it.

I pushed back a little more and felt the barrier. Freezing in place I considered just how much I was willing to try.

He leaned forward and kissed the small of my back and said, "I cannot help you here, there lays the guardian of the keep. You must break through. It may hurt a little or it may hurt a lot. There is nothing I can do for you to ease the pain. It is up to you to decide."

I slowly rocked back and forth up and each time I stopped against the barrier. I head hung down between my shoulders and tired to give myself courage. I opened my eyes was staring at the wrinkled sheets. Blowing out my cheeks, biting my lip I decided it was now or never. I threw my head back and rocked backwards as hard as I could. The rupture of the virginal membrane stunned me into stillness. The shock of it caused me to gasp as the pain radiated through me like hot fiery needles piercing my abdomen. I shuddered like a frightened horse as my head fell forward again.

I stayed still just twitching and shaking then I felt his other hand grasping me by the hip but he did not move; he simply held me as he said, "Laura I shall not move until you are ready if I was to cause you any distress I could not forgive myself. If that is all you can take for the night just say the word. I shall not ask you to continue unless you say 'yes' and I shall stay just where I am until you are ready."

I licked my lips for my mouth was dry. I cast my gaze back over my shoulder and whimpered, "Yes please. Please don't leave me. I must have this I have waited so very long just give me some time."

His eyes had such limitless depth in them I felt I could see forever and my heart expanded when he said, "This is your decision and I will abide by everything that you ask."

I dropped my head back and hesitated. Pulling forward slightly I could feel the head of him caught, trapped inside me. It was as if I was distancing myself from him but the truth was I was also very eager to try again.

I listened to myself breathing, shook my shoulders and then slowly began to rock back and forth taking more of him in a little bit each time. I heard him sucking wind and hissing through his teeth. "Laura you have half of me inside you now. Do you think you can take me all?"

Without thought I rocked forward and slammed back against him as hard as I could taking him to the hilt. I felt that he would break through into my stomach; he was right it was the sweetest of agonies.

I went to pull forward but he held onto my hips gasping, "No, not yet; just don't move. I don't want to spend too soon. I was not expecting you to do that."

I felt thrilled beyond measure I had caused this reaction and rubbed my bottom up and down against him; grinding into him while squeezing my inner muscles. He gasped, "Sweet Jesus! Stop, oh good God, girl pleased stay still for I can barely hold myself."

Instead a wicked grin tracked across my face. I shifted my bottom side to side and giggled. He gritted his teach, begging me to stop. I know that a bad girl might have continued but I did as I was told and held still.

For a few moments I felt him shudder spastically then grit his teeth and blow hard through his nose. For some reason the fact that I could drive him to this state thrilled me beyond measure. His fingers kept flexing and digging into my buttocks so I looked over my shoulder and found him gazing at the ceiling.

"What, pray tell are you doing?"

"Thinking of dead puppies…. cold winter rain…bad food and anything else but how good you look pinned to my cock. If I can concentrate on something rotten I find it helps me to regain my senses."

"Oh, well then does this help?" With that I bumped my bottom against him and giggled.

He laughed low and deep then he said, "Are you ready for the ride of your life?"

I looked back over my shoulder and winked at him. "Maybe but the question is fine Sir, are you ready for yours?"

And with that we began slamming into each other like wild animals; the smacking of our skin beating out the rhythm of our lust. The wet sucking sounds as I pulled away and the feral grunting as we gasped for air; both drenched in perspiration glistening in the light as one of his hands slipped forward between my legs and began to caress me yet again. I lost all sense of time and place. I began to throw myself wildly about. I could feel it building and the wet heat spilled over me; racing across my skin, making me gasp and gag. I could hardly breathe my head was dizzy and I was shuddering as he clung onto me. Then with a more thrusts he went still and dropped himself over my back. He pressed in his face between my shoulder blades, wrapped his arms around my waist and whispered, "I love you."

Never have I imagined it could be like this. I slowly slide forward and collapsed facedown with him atop me and amazingly enough he was still inside me. He rolled away onto his side pulling me with him kissing my shoulders and caressing my breasts until I felt him slowly withdraw. He snuggled close and whispered "Sweet dreams."

As I drifted back into slumber I felt a sharp pain in the side of my neck and after that I knew no more.

I awoke to knock on the door it was Madame telling me that breakfast was ready and inquiring if I coming downstairs or if I preferred to eat in my room. Blinking the sleep out of my eyes I wrinkled my nose for there was a strange smell lingering in the air. Oh God! It was me. I was sticky and tacky all over. I shouted out to her that I would wash quickly and be downstairs within a few minutes. I heard her heels clicking across the floor away down the Hall. Relieved she had not entered the room I jumped up out of bed only to see blood stains on my sheets. I knew the night had been nothing more than a dream so I simply assumed my monthly courses had come early. Stripping off the bed I tossed the sheets onto the floor into a corner discreetly out of sight.

Racing through my morning I did not notice one of the doors to the balcony was ajar.

As usual Carmilla was not in attendance but neither was Papa. Madame stated that he'd left quite early to attend to some business and was expected to return by nightfall. I sat there feeling put upon; Carmilla was having another of her self-imposed exiles hidden away in her room while I was fairly bursting from the memories that kept intruding upon me. All I could think of was how very real the dream seemed and how awful I was for reveling in it like some wanton creature of lust. Oddly enough I did not miss her presence and simply wanted to seek a quiet place to relive last night's dream.

I expressed a desire to walk through the formal garden to clear my head and Madame enjoined me to return for my tea at the proper time. I made my promise and escaped outside. Once I began wandering through the flower beds I thought of Carmilla and her innate strangeness.

Between the passionate nights there were long intervals of commonplace activities, of gaiety and of brooding melancholy. Often times during the day which, except that I detected her eyes so full of melancholy fire, following me, at times I might have been as nothing to her. Other times she seemed jealous of anyone that came near me. Except in these brief periods of mysterious excitement her ways were girlish; and there was always a languor about her, quite incompatible with a masculine system in a state of health.

In some respects her habits were odd. Perhaps not so singular in the opinion of a town lady like you, as they appeared to us rustic people. She used to come down very late, generally not till one o'clock, she would then take a cup of chocolate, but eat nothing; we then went out for a walk, which was a mere saunter, and she seemed, almost immediately, exhausted, and either returned to the castle or sat on one of the benches that were placed, here and there, among the trees. This was a bodily languor in which her mind did not sympathize. She was always an animated talker, and very intelligent yet she could become sullen, silent and withdrawn for no reason I could discern.

She sometimes alluded for a moment to her own home, or mentioned an adventure or situation, or an early recollection, which indicated a people of strange manners, and described customs of which we knew nothing. I gathered from these chance hints that her native country was much more remote than I had at first fancied.

As we sat thus one afternoon under the trees I was pondering a new approach for my questions when a funeral passed us by. It was that of a pretty young girl, whom I had often seen, the daughter of one of the rangers of the forest. The poor man was walking behind the coffin of his darling; she was his only child, and he looked quite heartbroken.

Peasants walking two-and-two came behind, they were singing a funeral hymn. I rose to mark my respect as they passed, and joined in the hymn they were very sweetly singing. My companion shook me a little roughly, and I turned surprised.

She said brusquely, "Don't you perceive how discordant that is?"

"I think it very sweet, on the contrary," I answered, vexed at the interruption, and very uncomfortable, lest the people who composed the little procession should observe and resent what was passing between us. I resumed, therefore, instantly, and was again interrupted.

"You pierce my ears," said Carmilla, almost angrily, and stopping her ears with her tiny fingers.

"Besides, how can you tell that your religion and mine are the same; your forms wound me, and I despise the whole mourning ritual! What a fuss! Why you must die—_everyone _must die; and all are happier when they do. Come away from this nonsensical display."

I shook my head in response."My father has gone on with the clergyman to the churchyard. I thought you knew she was to be buried today."

"She? I don't trouble my head about the lesser concerns of peasants. I don't know who she is nor do I care," answered Carmilla, with a flash from her fine eyes. "After all if their lives are of no account then why should I trouble myself about their deaths?"

In a small shocked and angry voice I said, "She is the poor girl who fancied she saw a ghost a fortnight ago, and has been dying ever since, till yesterday, when she expired."

"Tell me nothing about ghosts. I shan't sleep tonight if you do."

"I hope there is no plague or fever coming; all this looks very like it," I continued. "The swineherd's young wife died only a week ago, and she thought something seized her by the throat as she lay in her bed, and nearly strangled her. Papa says such horrible fancies do accompany some forms of fever. She was quite well the day before. She sank afterwards, and died before the week was out."

A vicious look filled her eyes and she hissed "Whatever would you expect. Sickness always visits the poor it's only natures' way of thinning the herd."

I gasped at the sheer venom in her voice. How could anyone utter such things and mean them? I turned to her searching her eyes for explanation.

"Dearest friend these are people with family and friends who love them. How can you not be moved into sympathy for their untimely loss? Tis most alarming that would you speak with such disregard for the pain they have suffered."

She snorted in a most manly way and said, "Would you rather it some phantom of the night? Mayhap the villagers with their superstitions and tales of the mysterious animals are their own undoing. You heard them the other today as did I; giant beasts that roam the woods. Demons and devils sneaking through open windows. Ha-such fools are not worthy of my concern. I'll not be returning to that festering town for there is nothing in that place that interests me. Now if only that infernal noise would stop I should be able to regain my composure."

I was greatly distressed by her unwarranted anger and saddened that she would be so cruel in her speech. I turned away for I could no longer face her strange and twisted visage. I stood up to remove myself from her presence when she grasped my arm.

"Well, _her _funeral is over, I hope, and _her _hymn sung; and our ears shan't be tortured with that discord and jargon. It has made me nervous. I am sorry if I distressed you. Funerals are most upsetting. Please, sit down here, beside me; sit close; hold my hand; press it hard, no harder."

We had moved a little further down the path, and come upon another seat. She sat down abruptly as if her legs had weakened. Without cause her face underwent a change that alarmed and even terrified me for a moment. It darkened, and became horribly livid; her teeth and hands were clenched, and she frowned and compressed her lips, while she stared down upon the ground at her feet, and trembled all over with a continued shudder as irrepressible as ague. All her energies seemed strained to suppress a fit, with which she was then breathlessly tugging; and at length a low convulsive cry of suffering broke from her, and gradually the hysteria subsided.

"There! That's what comes of strangling people with hymns!" she said at last. Gasping and clutching at me she rasped out, "Hold me, hold me still. It is passing away."

And so gradually it did; and perhaps to dissipate the somber impression which the spectacle had left upon me, she became unusually animated and chatty; and so we got home with no further incidents. No mention was made of her odd manner on our walk nor did either of us remark on it after dinner. We sat most companionably in the drawing room chatting of the Christmas ball and wondering who would attend until father expressed it late enough and told us to be off to sleep.

As I lay in bed that night I wondered if Carmilla was perhaps ill. I considered her strange behavior and visceral physical reaction as the funeral passed; was this mayhap a harbinger of something more disturbing to come? This was the second time I had seen her exhibit any definable symptoms of that delicacy of health which her mother had spoken of. It was also not the first time I had seen her exhibit an ill temper. Both had passed away like a summer cloud; and never but once afterwards did I witness on her part a momentary sign of anger. I will tell you how it happened.

She and I were looking out of one of the long drawing room windows, when there entered the courtyard, over the drawbridge, a figure of a wanderer whom I knew very well. He used to visit the estate generally twice a year.

It was the figure of a hunchback, with the sharp lean features that generally accompany deformity. He wore a pointed black beard, and he was smiling from ear to ear, showing his white fangs. He was dressed in buff, black, and scarlet, and crossed with more straps and belts than I could count, from which hung all manner of things. Behind, he carried a magic lantern, and two boxes, which I well knew, in one of which was a salamander, and in the other a mandrake. These monsters used to make my father laugh. They were compounded of parts of monkeys, parrots, squirrels, fish, and hedgehogs, dried and stitched together with great neatness and startling effect. He had a fiddle, a box of conjuring apparatus, a pair of foils and masks attached to his belt, several other mysterious cases dangling about him, and a black staff with copper ferrules in his hand. His companion was a rough spare dog that followed at his heels, but stopped short, suspiciously at the drawbridge, and in a little while began to howl dismally.

I thought that most odd as the dog had seemed to grin with delight when he approached our home on each of his previous visits. I would sit with him and pat his course coat while offering him meats that cook kindly let me take from the kitchen. He would lay his head in my lap while I read to him and the hunchback would show his wares to my father, the staff and those who lived in the outbuildings. I adored the dog and enjoyed his company which invariably led to my begging father for a dog of my own. Father would have allowed me a dog but when he came too close to one his nose would drip in the most ungentlemanly way. So I had to satisfy myself with periodic visits to the sheepherders and woods men's dogs that were only too happy to meet me.

Visitors who bring chicken are always welcomed. Naturally being a well mannered young lady I always included baskets of food stuffs and drink for the men and their families when I made my carriage visits.

In the meantime, the mountebank, standing in the midst of the courtyard, raised his grotesque hat, and made us a very ceremonious bow, paying his compliments very volubly in execrable French, and his German not much better.

Then, disengaging his fiddle, he began to scrape a lively air to which he sang with a merry discord, dancing with ludicrous airs and activity, that made me laugh, in spite of the dog's howling. Then he advanced to the window with many smiles and salutations, and his hat in his left hand, his fiddle under his arm, and with a fluency that never took breath, he gabbled a long advertisement of all his accomplishments, and the resources of the various arts which he placed at our service, and the curiosities and entertainments which it was in his power, at our bidding, to display.

"Will your ladyships be pleased to buy an amulet against the succubus, which is going like the wolf, I hear, through these woods," he said dropping his hat on the pavement. "They are dying of it right and left and here is a charm that never fails; only pinned to the pillow, and you may laugh in his face."

These charms consisted of oblong slips of vellum, with cabalistic ciphers and diagrams upon them. Carmilla instantly purchased one, and so did I. He was looking up, and we were smiling down upon him, amused; at least, I can answer for myself. His piercing black eye, as he looked up in our faces, seemed to detect something that fixed for a moment his curiosity. In an instant he unrolled a leather case, full of all manner of odd little steel instruments.

"See here, my lady," he said, displaying it, and addressing me, "I profess, among other things less useful, the art of dentistry. Plague take the dog!" he interpolated. "Silence, beast! She howls so that your ladyships can scarcely hear a word. Your noble friend, the young lady at your right, has the sharpest tooth, —long, thin, pointed, like a cat's, like an needle; ha, ha! With my sharp and long sight, as I look up, I have seen it distinctly; now if it happens to hurt the young lady, and I think it must, here am I, here are my file, my punch, my nippers; I will make it round and blunt, if her ladyship pleases; no longer the tooth of a cat, but of a beautiful young lady as she is."

Carmilla gasped and as I looked at her I wondered how deeply had she felt the insult? Her hands were fisted at her sides and she rocked back as if struck.

The hunchback bowed and knowing that the insult had been perceived even though unintended, he said, "My apologies to you. Is the young lady displeased? Have I been too bold? Have I offended her?"

The young lady, indeed, looked very angry as she drew back from the window.

"How daring he is to insult us so? Where is your father? I shall demand redress from him. My father would have had the wretch tied up to the pump, and flogged with a cart whip, and burnt to the bones with the cattle brand!"

Her sides were heaving and the veins bulged from her neck as she stalked away from the window. I feared she might faint from the sudden rush of anger that had so consumed her. She returned to glare with a most frightening expression through the glass; having lost sight of the traveler she retired from me a step or two, and threw herself down onto a chair. Tossing her head back she pulled a horrid grimace, shuddered most strangely and then as if in the grip of a fit she jerked forward casting her hair down hiding her face.

I was most distressed and unsure how to soothe her when a sound lit upon my ears. Slowly I approached, wary of coming within striking distance. Stopping short I wondered why that had occurred to me; for she was my friend and would not hurt me. However much I trusted her I could not will myself to comfort her. Instead I stayed in place waiting for Carmilla to regain her senses.

After only the briefest of moments her wrath subsided as suddenly as it had risen as she gradually recovered her usual tone, and seemed to forget the little hunchback and his follies. It was not until I was soaking in my bath that evening I recalled the incident and realized the sound I had heard was in fact laughing; Carmilla the mad had been laughing.

My father was out of spirits the next evening. On coming in he told us that there had been another case very similar to the five fatal ones which had lately occurred. The sister of a young peasant on his estate, only a mile away, was very ill, had been, as she described it, attacked very nearly in the same way, as the others and was now slowly but steadily sinking.

"All this," said my father "is strictly referable to natural causes. These poor uneducated people infect one another with their superstitions, and so repeat in imagination the images of terror that have infested their neighbors."

"But that very circumstance frightens one horribly," said Carmilla.

"How so?" inquired my father.

"I am so afraid of fancying I see such things; I think it would be as bad as reality."

Her comment was opposite of what she had stated only a week earlier and I could not bring myself to look at her while she simpered as if in fear of potential unhealthy visions.

Father smiled gently at her. "We are in God's hands: nothing can happen without his permission, and all will end well for those who love him. He is our faithful creator; He has made us all, and will take care of us."

"The blessed Creator!" she snorted. "_Does he protect us all- with so much death about I think not!_" said the young lady in answer to my gentle father. Her tone was dismissive and I was started by it.

In a scathing tone she glowered about the room, "and this disease that invades the country is natural. It's only nature working according to her own hidden agenda. All things proceed from nature—don't they? All things in the heaven, in the earth, and under the earth, act and live as nature ordains? Do they not? I think so and if I am right then God has nothing to do with it."

She stared at each of us in turn as if daring one or the other to disagree with her.

"The doctor said he would come here today," said my father, after a silence.

"I want to know what he thinks about it, and what he thinks we had better do."

"Doctors never did me any good," said Carmilla in put upon voice.

'Then you have been ill?" I asked.

"More ill than ever you were," she answered.

"Long ago?"

"Yes, a long time. I suffered from this very illness; but I forget all but my pain and weakness, and they were not so bad as are suffered in other diseases."

"You were very young then?"

"I dare say, let us talk no more of it. You would not wound a friend?"

She looked languidly in my eyes, and passed her arm round my waist lovingly, and led me out of the room. My father was busy over some papers near the window and took no notice of our departure.

"Why does your Papa like to frighten us?" said the pretty girl with a sigh and a little shudder.

"He doesn't, dear Carmilla, it is the very furthest thing from his mind."

"Are you afraid, dearest?"

"I should be very much if I fancied there was any real danger of my being attacked as those poor people were."

"You are afraid to die?"

"Yes, everyone is."

"But to die as lovers may—to die together, so that they may live together ever after: would it not be glorious?"

"No dear girl, there is nothing glorious in death. There is only the hope of redemption-nothing more."

I was confused and unhappy. Telling a lie is not something that I am accustomed to but the falsehood tripped off my tongue with ease when I pleaded fatigue and the need for a lie down before dinner. She looked askance but said nothing as I walked away feigning exhaustion. I did not turn around as I quit the room but I felt her eyes on me nonetheless.

Later in the day the doctor came, and was closeted with Papa for some time.

He was a skilful man, of sixty and upwards, he wore powder, and shaved his pale face as smooth as a pumpkin. He and Papa emerged from the room together, and I heard Papa laugh, and say as they came out: "Well, I do wonder at a wise man like you. What do you say to hippogriffs and dragons?"

Theoctor was smiling, and made answer, shaking his head—"Nevertheless life and death are mysterious states, and we know little of the resources of either."

And so they walked on, and I heard no more. I did not then know what the doctor had been broaching, but I think I guess it now.

The next evening there arrived from Gratz the grave, dark-faced son of the picture cleaner, with a horse and cart laden with two large packing cases, having many pictures in each. It was a journey of ten leagues, and whenever a messenger arrived at the castle from the city, we used to crowd about him in the hall, to hear the news. This arrival created in our secluded quarters quite a sensation. The cases remained in the hall, and the messenger was taken charge of by the servants till he had eaten his supper. Then with assistants, and armed with hammer, ripping chisel, and turnscrew, he met us in the hall, where we had assembled to witness the unpacking of the cases.

Carmilla sat looking listlessly on, while one after the other the old pictures, nearly all portraits, which had undergone the process of renovation, were brought to light. My mother was of an old Irish family, but had been living in England for many years when she met my father. She loved art and had collected numerous paintings during their years there and travels abroad. Her own mother was Hungarian and shocked her family when she married the Irish painter sent by the English court to paint the various ladies that the future King would consider as his new bride. Many of her maternal family portraits she had received upon her parent's death and they had been scattered throughout the castle.

These she added to the family collection which had given her great pleasure. Most of these pictures, which were about to be restored to their places, had come to us through her. My father had a list in his hand, from which he read, as the artist rummaged calling out the corresponding numbers. I don't know that the pictures were very good, but they were, undoubtedly, very old, and some of them very curious also. They had, for the most part, the merit of being now seen by me, I may say, for the first time; for the smoke and dust of time had all but obliterated them.

"There is a picture that I have not seen yet," said my father. "In one corner, at the top of it, is the name, as well as I could read, 'Marcia Karnstein,' and the date '1558'; and I am curious to see how it has turned out."

I remembered it; it was a small picture, about a foot and a half high, and nearly square, without a frame; but it was so blackened by age that I could not make it out. The artist now produced it, with evident pride. It was quite beautiful; it was startling; it seemed to live. It was the effigy of Carmilla!

"Carmilla, dear, here is an absolute miracle. Here you are, living, smiling, and ready to speak, in this picture. Isn't it beautiful, Papa? And see, even the little mole on her throat."

My father laughed, and said "Certainly it is a wonderful likeness," but he looked away, and to my surprise seemed but little struck by it, and went on talking to the picture cleaner, who was also something of an artist, and discoursed with intelligence about the portraits or other works, which his art had just brought into light and color, while I was more and more lost in wonder the more I looked at the picture.

I found myself looking at the picture then back to Carmilla; then back again, comparing the living, breathing woman in the room against the static oiled image in my hands. How impossible that the woman in a centuries old painting should seem to be a doppelganger for my own dear friend?

"Will you let me hang this picture in my room, Papa?" I asked.

"Certainly, dear," said he, smiling, "I'm very glad you think it so like Carmilla. It must be prettier even than I thought it, if it is."

Carmilla did not acknowledge this pretty speech, did not seem to hear it. She was leaning back in her seat, her fine eyes under their long lashes gazing on me in contemplation, and she smiled in a kind of rapture hugging her little fists to her chest.

I continued to stare at the painting and my eyes found the name of the lady which so resembled Carmilla. "See here, now you can read quite plainly the name that is written in the corner. It is not Marcia; it looks as if it was done in gold. The name is Mircalla, Countess Karnstein, and this is a little coronet over and underneath A.D. 1558. I am descended from the Karnsteins; that is, Mamma was. My grandmother was a Karnstein before her marriage. Her maternal line comes from this area. There is a painting of Mama when she was very young. Come, I'll show you. It's in the main hall; she is seated with her parents and brothers looking very ill at ease with a ruined castle keep behind them."

She held my hand as we strolled into the far end of the main hall. I pointed up and said, "See? That is Mama when she was just a young child. Papa told me once that it was the style of the day during my grandparent's age to display ancient landmarks as part of one's family heritage."

"Are your mother's people still here?"

"No but I've often thought Papa chose this place because once Mama had seen it during their wanderings and said it brought back fond memories of her girlhood. Sadly none of my mother's family is living: I've been told they all died before I was born but I do believe there is still family in Ireland from Grand-Papa's side."

"Ah!" said the lady, languidly, "so am I, I think, a very long descent, very ancient of this same family. Are there any Karnsteins living now?"

"None who bear the name, I believe. The family was ruined, I believe, in some civil wars, long ago, but the ruins of the castle are only about three miles away."

"How interesting!" she said, languidly. "But see what beautiful moonlight!"

She glanced through the hall door, which stood a little open. "Suppose you take a little ramble round the court with me, and look down at the road and river."

"It is so like the night you came to us," I said.

She sighed; smiling. She rose, and each with her arm about the other's waist, we walked out upon the pavement. In silence, slowly we walked down to the drawbridge, where the beautiful landscape opened before us.

"And so you were thinking of the night I came here?" she almost whispered.

"Are you glad I came?"

"Delighted, dear Carmilla," I answered.

"And you asked for the picture you think like me, to hang in your room," she murmured with a sigh, as she drew her arm closer about my waist, and let her pretty head sink upon my shoulder.

"How romantic you are, Carmilla," I said. "Whenever you tell me your story, I am sure it will be made up chiefly of some great romance." She kissed me silently.

We walked in unspoken companionship under the stars and I felt relieved that she was once again my friend and not the sullen, silent withdrawn creature that seemed to pop out without warning. She led me down towards the bridge but instead of going up to lean on the stone railing she turned to the grassy slope that ran along the river bank. I was recalling my dream of Thomas and turned to her and asked, "Have you ever been in love? True love where you thought you might die if rejected?"

She shook her head no and turned her face to the night sky. I watched the stars twinkle and flash in the reflection of her eyes. She sighed in a pretty manner and turned to me, saying, "No I fear that I have not been fortunate in that aspect."

"I am sure, Carmilla, you have been in love; that there is, at this moment, an affair of the heart going on.

"I have been in love with no one, and never shall," she whispered, "unless it should be with you."

How beautiful she looked in the moonlight!

Shy and strange was the look with which she quickly hid her face in my neck and hair, with tumultuous sighs, that seemed almost to sob, and pressed in mine a hand that trembled.

Her soft cheek was glowing against mine. "Darling, my eternal darling," she murmured, "I live in you; and you would die for me, I love you so."

I started from her. She was gazing on me with eyes from which all fire, all meaning had flown, and a face colorless and apathetic.

Just as quickly her expression shifted and became one of adoration and lust. Her hands snaked down my arms and grasped hold around my elbows. Her lips parted in a smile and she kissed me. I started to push her away but my mind became fogged and a vision of Thomas danced into my head. Without a thought of purposeful action I clung to her and embraced her invitation. Thrilling chills raced along my limbs driving me to distraction as I parted my mouth feeling her tongue flick against my own. A cool hand pushed into my bodice and cupped my breast; a thumb swirling around my nipple causing it to leap in attention. I could feel some of the buttons come undone and the night breeze fluttered across my chest raising my pulse.

Her breath was sweet and she kissed my jaw and dragged her lips to my neck. Licking and nibbling her way to my shoulder I felt as if my skin was seared each time she pressed her lips to my body. Her knee pressed against the fabric of my dress and I shifted my stance to accommodate her. My legs felt the change as my skirt was lifted and pressed against my waist. Leaning against one of the bridge supports I pressed my shoulders against the stone to balance the pressure of her body as she pushed against me. Sighing with pleasure I felt myself shudder when her hand fluttered through my dampening curls. The pressure began to build as she stroked and slipped her nimble fingers over my hidden rose. I moaned and said Thomas' name when the organism tore through me; her reaction was swift and angry. Twisting away she hissed and stomped her feet. For the longest time she stood there vibrating in wordless fury. My head moved this way and that but we were alone and I was becoming frightened of her. I feared even drawing her attention to me by asking if she was well.

She began mumbling to herself in that strange language that sounded a bit like Italian and opening and closing her fists in agitation. Then without warning like a summer rain shower it passed. She remained in profile but oh so slowly rotated her head until she facing me.

"Laura my sweet friend, pray tell; what color are the eyes of the handsome footman Thomas?"

Without thought I blurted out, "Blue."

Smiling slightly she cooed, "I thought so."

I stared at her in confusion and wondered when she had even bothered to look at Thomas as she normally paid no heed to servants unless to chastise them for some imagined transgression.

Sighing softly she came forward and looked back towards the castle entrance. "I think perhaps the hour grows late." She shuddered as the breeze lifted off the water.

"Is there a chill in the air, dear?" she said drowsily. "I almost shiver; have I been dreaming? Let us come in. Come; come; come in."

"You look ill, Carmilla; a little faint. You certainly must take some wine," I said, relieved she had resumed her good nature.

"Yes. I will. I'm better now. I shall be quite well in a few minutes. Yes, do give me a little wine," answered Carmilla, as we approached the door.

"Let us look again for a moment; it is the last time, perhaps, I shall see the moonlight with you." I thought that comment rather odd and fatalistic believing she suffered from some malady that she kept secret to avoid distressing me further. Yet gazing at her face I found it strangely expressionless. It was if the last bit of warmth had fled leaving only some living statue in her place. For the briefest of moments I entertained the horrid thought that she might be considering self harm to avoid whatever plagued her.

"How do you feel now, dear Carmilla? Are you really better?" I asked.

She remained a still thing leaving me standing with no response to my query.

I was beginning to take alarm, lest she should have been stricken with the strange epidemic that they said had invaded the country about us. Perhaps that was the cause of her strange moods and sudden rages. I wondered if the recent sickness had simply pushed her delicate constitution beyond her fragile emotional limits.

Clutching her hand I gave a gentle squeeze to assure her that my friendship would not wane in the face of further difficulty.

"Papa would be grieved beyond measure," I added, "if he thought you were ever so little ill, without immediately letting us know. We have a very skilful doctor near us, the physician who was with Papa today."

The saddest smile barely lifted her lips as rolled her head slightly to look into my eyes.

"I'm sure he is. I know how kind you all are; but, dear child, I am quite well again. There is nothing ever wrong with me, but a little weakness."

She sighed with such grace before continuing, "People say I am languid; I am incapable of exertion; I can scarcely walk as far as a child of three years old: and every now and then the little strength I have falters, and I become as you have just seen me. But after all I am very easily set up again; in a moment I am perfectly myself. See how I have recovered."

So, indeed, she had; and she and I talked a great deal, and very animated she was; and the remainder of that evening passed without any recurrence of what I called her infatuations. I mean her crazy talk and looks, which embarrassed, and even frightened me.

But there occurred that night an event which gave my thoughts quite a new turn, and seemed to startle even Carmilla's languid nature into momentary energy.

We strolled arm in arm content in our comfortable companionship through the hall and into the drawing room, and had sat down to our coffee and chocolate, although Carmilla did not take any, she seemed quite herself again, and Madame, and Mademoiselle De Lafontaine, joined us, and made a little card party, in the course of which Papa came in for what he called his "dish of tea."

When the game was over he sat down beside Carmilla on the sofa, and asked her, a little anxiously, whether she had heard from her mother since her arrival.

She answered "No."

He then asked whether she knew where a letter would reach her at present.

"I cannot tell," she answered ambiguously, "but I have been thinking of leaving you; you have been already too hospitable and too kind to me. I have given you infinity of trouble, and I should wish to take a carriage tomorrow, and post in pursuit of her; I know where I shall ultimately find her, although I dare not yet tell you."

"But you must not dream of any such thing," exclaimed my father, to my great relief. "We can't afford to lose you so, and I won't consent to your leaving us, except under the care of your mother, who was so good as to consent to your remaining with us till she should herself return. I should be quite happy if I knew that you heard from her: but this evening the accounts of the progress of the mysterious disease that has invaded our neighborhood, grow even more alarming; and my beautiful guest, I do feel the responsibility, unaided by advice from your mother, very much. But I shall do my best; and one thing is certain, that you must not think of leaving us without her distinct direction to that effect. We should suffer too much in parting from you to consent to it easily."

"Thank you, sir, a thousand times for your hospitality," she answered, smiling bashfully. "You have all been too kind to me; I have seldom been so happy in all my life before, as in your beautiful chateau, under your care, and in the society of your dear daughter."

So he gallantly, in his old-fashioned way, kissed her hand, smiling and pleased at her little speech.

I accompanied Carmilla as usual to her room, and sat and chatted with her while she was preparing for bed.

"Do you think," I said at length, "that you will ever confide fully in me? For already we share so many secrets it makes me wonder what you are secreting to yourself."

She turned round smiling, but made no answer, only continued to smile on me.

"You won't answer that?" I said. "You can't answer pleasantly; I ought not to have asked you."

"You were quite right to ask me that, or anything. You do not know how dear you are to me, or you could not think any confidence too great to look for. But I am under vows, no nun half so awfully, and I dare not tell my story yet, even to you. The time is very near when you shall know everything. You will think me cruel, very selfish, but love is always selfish; the more ardent the more selfish. How jealous I am you cannot know. You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me and still come with me, and _hating _me through death and after. There is no such word as indifference in my apathetic nature."

"Now, Carmilla, you are going to talk your wild nonsense again," I said hastily.

"Not I, silly little fool as I am, and full of whims and fancies; for your sake I'll talk like a sage. Were you ever at a ball?"

"No I've not had the pleasure yet but my how you do run on. What is it like? How charming it must be."

"I almost forget, it is years ago."

I laughed and begged her to tell me the story. "You are not so old. Your first ball can hardly be forgotten yet."

"I remember everything about it—with an effort. I see it all, as divers see what is going on above them, through a medium, dense, rippling, but transparent. There occurred that night what has confused the picture, and made its colors faint. I was all but assassinated in my bed, wounded here," she touched her breast, "and never was the same since."

"Were you near dying?"

"Yes, very—a cruel love—strange love, that would have taken my life. Love will have its sacrifices. No sacrifice without blood. Let us go to sleep now; I feel so lazy. How can I get up just now and lock my door?"

She was lying with her tiny hands buried in her rich wavy hair, under her cheek, her little head upon the pillow, and her glittering eyes followed me wherever I moved, with a kind of shy smile that I could not decipher.

I bid her good night, and about to creep from the room an uncomfortable sensation began burning in my breast.

I reached up to touch my chest, seeking the source of my discomfort when she called out to me. "Do not go my darling. I would not sleep alone on this night of memories. Lock the door and stay with me; comfort my fears and I will sleep the better for it."

I paused on the landing and looked back at her; so lost and forlorn in the massive oaken bed. I wanted to stay and yet some unknown fear kept me rooted to the spot.

I had often wondered whether our pretty guest ever said her prayers. I certainly had never seen her upon her knees. I felt the hot blush suffuse my face; for I had seen her on her knees but most certainly not in prayer. In the morning she never came down until long after our family prayers were over, and at night she never left the drawing room to attend our brief evening prayers in the hall. Why this should occur to me now as I stood torn between comforting her and escaping to my own room I did not know.

If it had not been that it had casually come out in one of our careless talks that she had been baptized, I should have doubted her being a Christian. Yet her actions in the church had made me believe she has once been devout. Religion was a subject on which I had never heard her speak a word. Perhaps if I had known the world better, this particular neglect or antipathy would not have so much surprised me.

Sensing my indecision she smiled and drew back the covers. "Come to me" she cooed, "and I shall tell you the night of my first dance which unlike my last I recall with clarity. A ball so elegant and glittering it still sears my mind with images. I shall tell you of the mysterious man, so handsome; dark and dangerous he was almost my undoing."

I looked back into the safety of the hall and the short distance to my own door. I longed to escape but I knew as sure as the sun rises I would turn back to her.


	7. Chapter 7

The precautions of nervous people are infectious, and persons of a like temperament are pretty sure, after a time, to imitate them. Over the next week I adopted Carmilla's habit of locking her bedroom door, having taken into my head all her whimsical alarms about midnight invaders and prowling assassins.

I had also adopted her precaution of making a brief search through her room, to satisfy herself that no lurking assassin or robber was "ensconced."

Each night after these wise measures taken, I got into my bed and fell asleep. A light was burning in my room. This was an old habit, of very early date, and which nothing could have tempted me to dispense with. Thus fortified I might take my rest in peace. But dreams come through stone walls, light up dark rooms, or darken light ones, and their persons make their exits and their entrances as they please, and laugh at locksmiths.

I had a dream that night that was the beginning of a very strange agony. I cannot call it a nightmare, for I was quite conscious of being asleep. But I was equally conscious of being in my room, and lying in bed, precisely as I actually was. I saw, or fancied I saw, the room and its furniture just as I had seen it last, except that it was very dark, and I saw something moving round the foot of the bed, which at first I could not accurately distinguish. But I soon saw that it was a sooty-black animal that resembled a monstrous cat. It appeared to me about four or five feet long for it measured fully the length of the hearthrug as it passed over it; and it continued pacing with the lithe, sinister restlessness of a beast in a cage. I could not cry out, although as you may suppose, I was terrified.

Its pace was growing faster, and the room rapidly darker and darker, and at length so dark that I could no longer see anything of it but its eyes. I felt it spring lightly on the bed. The two broad green eyes approached my face, and suddenly I felt a stinging pain as if two large needles darted, three or four inches apart, deep into my breast. I awoke with a blood-curdling scream. The room was lighted by the candle that burnt there all through the night, and I saw a female figure standing at the foot of the bed, a little to my right side. It was in a dark loose dress, and its hair was down and covered its shoulders. A block of stone could not have been more still.

There was not the slightest stir of respiration. As I stared at it, the figure appeared to have changed its place, and was now nearer the door; then, close to it, the door opened, and it passed out without a sound.

I was now relieved, and able to breathe and move. My first thought was that Carmilla had been playing me a trick, and that I had forgotten to secure my door. I hastened to it, and found it locked as usual on the inside. I was afraid to open it—I was horrified. I sprang into my bed and covered my head up in the bedclothes, and lay there more dead than alive till morning.

It would be vain my attempting to tell you the horror with which, even now courses through me as I recall the occurrence of that night. It was no such transitory terror as a dream leaves behind once morning shatters the dark. It seemed to deepen over time, and communicated itself to the room and the very furniture that had encompassed the apparition.

I could not bear the next day to be alone for a moment. I should have told Papa, but for two opposite reasons I did not speak of it. At one time I thought he would laugh at my story, and I could not bear its being treated as a jest; and at another I thought he might fancy that I had been attacked by the mysterious complaint which had invaded our neighborhood. I had myself no misgiving of the kind, and as he had been rather stressed for some time, I was afraid of alarming him. I was comfortable enough with my good-natured companions, Madame Perrodon, and the vivacious Mademoiselle Lafontaine. They both perceived that I was out of spirits and nervous, and at length I told them what lay so heavy at my heart.

Mademoiselle laughed, but I fancied that Madame Perrodon looked anxious. "By-the-by," said Mademoiselle, laughing, "Did you know the long lime tree walk, behind Carmilla's bedroom window, is haunted!"

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Madame, who probably thought the theme rather inopportune, "and who tells that story, my dear?"

"Martin says that he came up twice, along the path where the old yard gate was being repaired, before sunrise, and twice saw the same female figure walking down the lime tree avenue. Dressed all in black and moving soundlessly but with purpose he says. Gave him such a fright the second time he'll not be passing that way again until a priest can arrive and bless him against the power of demons." So he well might take the longer path but as long as there are cows to milk in the river fields, he shall still find himself trudging about in the dark" said Madame.

Madame rolled her eyes and continued, "I daresay; but Martin chooses to be frightened, and never did I see a fool more easily disturbed. He would do well not to give credence to the frightful stories bantered about in the village pubs and get himself to church more often for it would soothe his mind."

Madame was of an opinion that Martin spent so much time with his cows he had become slow witted.

I shuddered with fear and wondered if we were all in danger from some unknown force. I had known Martin my entire life and never found him to be easily spooked. His was a calm and solid presence on the estate for him to react in such a manner something evil had come unto our peaceful lives. Martin may have been a man of few words but he was far from the simpleton that Madame believed.

"You must not say a word about it to Carmilla, because she can see down that walk from her room window," I interposed, "and she is, if possible, a greater coward than I."

Carmilla came down rather later than usual that day. She appeared wan and agitated when I first noticed her.

"I was so frightened last night," she said, a soon as were together, "and I am sure I should have seen something dreadful if it had not been for that charm I bought from the poor little hunchback whom I called such hard names. I had a dream of something black coming round my bed, and I awoke in a perfect horror, and I really thought, for some seconds, I saw a dark figure near the chimney-piece, but I felt under my pillow for my charm, and the moment my fingers touched it, the figure disappeared, and I felt quite certain, only that I had it by me, that something frightful would have made its appearance, and, perhaps, throttled me, as it did those poor people we heard of."

"Well, listen to me," I began, and recounted my adventure, at the recital of which she appeared horrified.

"And had you the charm near you?" she asked, earnestly.

"No, I had dropped it into a china vase in the drawing room, but I shall certainly take it with me tonight, as you have so much faith in it."

At this distance of time I cannot tell you, or even understand how I overcame my horror so effectually as to lie alone in my room that night. I remember distinctly that I pinned the charm to my pillow. I fell asleep almost immediately, and slept even more soundly than usual all night. The next night I passed in pleasant slumber as well. My sleep was delightfully deep and dreamless. But I wakened with a sense of lassitude and melancholy, which, however, did not exceed a degree that was almost luxurious.

"Well, I told you so," said Carmilla, when I described my quiet sleep, "I had such delightful sleep myself last night; I pinned the charm to the breast of my nightdress. It was too far away the night before. I am quite sure it was all a fancy, except the dreams. I used to think that evil spirits made dreams, but our doctor told me it is no such thing. Only a fever passing by, or some other malady, as they often do, he said, knocks at the door, and not being able to get in, passes on, with that the alarm is no more."

"And what do you think the charm is?" said I.

"It has been fumigated or immersed in some drug, and is an antidote against the malaria," she answered.

"Then it acts only on the body?"

"Certainly; you don't suppose that evil spirits are frightened by bits of ribbon, or the perfumes of a druggist's shop? No, these complaints, wandering in the air, begin by trying the nerves, and so infect the brain, but before they can seize upon you, the antidote repels them. That I am most sure, is what the charm has done for us. It is nothing magical, it is simply natural."

I should have been happier if I could have quite agreed with Carmilla, but I did my best, and the impression of approaching evil was not losing its force. For some nights I slept soundly; but still every morning I felt the same lassitude, and a languor weighed upon me all day. I felt myself a changed girl from the happy contented child I was last summer. A strange melancholy was stealing over me, a melancholy that I would not have interrupted. Dim thoughts of death began to open, and an idea took hold that I was slowly sinking. A gentle, and, somehow, not unwelcome, weariness was taking possession of me. If it was sad, this strange tone of mind was also sweet.

Whatever it might be, my soul acquiesced in it. I would not admit that I was ill. I would not consent to tell my Papa, or to have the doctor sent for.

Carmilla became more devoted to me than ever, and her strange paroxysms of languid adoration more frequent. She used to faun on me with increasing ardor the more my strength and spirits waned. This always shocked me like a momentary glare of insanity because the nights I spent locked away in her bed were of the sweetest and most gentle nature. Now that I was growing weak she was disinclined to welcome me to her room but twice weekly. During the day when I was gripped by exhaustion she would flutter about and chatter incessantly about our future together.

It was even more tiring when she would sit beside me and murmur nonsensical nothings about love, life and the sweetness of death. My mind could not follow her words and I would drift into empty sleep while she stroked my hair.

Without knowing it, I was now in a pretty advanced stage of the strangest illness under which a mortal ever suffered. There was an unaccountable fascination in its earlier symptoms that more than reconciled me to the incapacitating effect of the newest stage of the malady. This fascination increased for a time, until it reached a certain point, when gradually a sense of the horrible mingled itself with it, deepening, as you shall hear, until it discolored and perverted the whole state of my life.

The first change I experienced was rather agreeable. It was very near the turning point from which I began the descent of the damned. Certain vague and strange sensations visited me in my sleep. The prevailing one was of that a pleasant, peculiar cold thrill which we feel in bathing, when we move against the current of a river. This was soon accompanied by dreams that seemed interminable, and were so vague that I could never recollect their scenery and persons, or anyone connected portion of their action. But they left an awful impression, and a sense of exhaustion. Each morning I awoke damp and tangled in the sheets; feeling as if I had passed through a long period of great mental exertion and physical danger. I began to fear for my sanity but spoke to no one; for what could be done?

After all these dreams there remained on waking a remembrance of having been in a place very nearly dark, and of having spoken to people whom I could not see; and especially of one clear voice, of a female's, very deep, that spoke as if at a distance, slowly, and producing always the same sensation of indescribable solemnity and fear tinged with sexual lust. Sometimes there came a sensation as if a hand was drawn softly along my cheek and neck. Sometimes it was as if warm lips kissed me, and longer and longer and more lovingly as they reached my throat, but there the caress fixed itself until I could bear it no longer. My heart beat faster, my breathing rose and fell rapidly and full drawn; a sobbing, that rose into a sense of strangulation, supervened, turning into a dreadful convulsion.

I felt the coils of panic coursing through my body as the terror grew snuffing out all rational thought. Once I had reached the point of no return; thinking that now my death was fast approaching the sensations became one I wished would never end.

Each night it was the same; fear, pain, rapture and then a collapse of spirit, body and soul in which my senses left me and I became unconscious. It was now three weeks since the commencement of this unaccountable state.

My sufferings had, during the last week, told upon my appearance. I had grown increasingly pale, my eyes were dilated and darkened underneath, and the languor which I had long felt began to display itself in my countenance.

Yet each morning when I stood naked before the looking glass seeking evidence of my dreams I found only small bruises for which I could not account. Yet there were also changes that I was oddly pleased with. My breasts had always been high but small; now they appeared ripe and lush. Creamy orbs that rose proudly from my ribs begging to be touched. My nipples had darkened from the palest pink to a deeper blush and seemed always to be slightly erect as it waiting for the next caress of hand or mouth. My belly was slightly rounded and my thighs had lost the golden hair that used to cover them.

On the third morning of my awakening I took note that the only hair remaining to me was above my shoulders while the rest of my body was a smooth as a newborns. Turning slightly I could see my buttocks looked firmer and had rounded like a young boys'. Why I should find myself pleased by these odd changes that only I could see I did not know yet I would run my hands over my changing body with growing delight each day.

My father asked me often whether I was ill; but, with an obstinacy which now seems to me unaccountable, I persisted in assuring him that I was quite well. In a sense this was true. I had no pain, I could complain of no bodily derangement. My complaint seemed to be one of the imagination, or the nerves, and, horrible as my sufferings were to endure, I kept them, with a morbid reserve, very nearly to myself. It could not be that terrible complaint which the peasants called the vampire, for I had now been suffering for many weeks, and they were seldom ill for much more than three days, when death put an end to their miseries.

Carmilla also complained of dreams and feverish sensations, but by no means of so alarming a kind as mine. I say now that mine were extremely alarming and growing worse each night. Had I been capable of comprehending my condition, I would have invoked aid and advice on my knees. The narcotic of an unsuspected influence was acting upon me; my perceptions were benumbed as if from imbibing opiates. I am going to tell you now of a dream that led immediately to an odd discovery.

One night, instead of the voice I was accustomed to hear in the dark, I heard one, sweet and tender, and at the same time terrible, which said, "Your mother warns you to beware of the assassin."

At the same time a light unexpectedly sprang up, and I saw Carmilla, standing, near the foot of my bed, in her white nightdress, bathed, from her chin to her feet, in one great stain of fresh clotting blood. Dark red, it ran in sticky rivulets down her front and pooled round her feet. I gasped but found I could not scream. Struck dumb with terror I could only stare as I watched the nightmarish mirage slowly shift her head from side to side. Hands clenching and flashing open it tilted its head much like a dog would upon hearing an odd note pass through the air. I could feel my heart flutter against my ribs and the overwhelming urge to flee caused my skin to shudder along my scalp. Much like the woodland rabbit that sees the fox I found fear had frozen me in place.

Eyes wide open I could only watch hoping the dark would shield me from it. I knew it was not my dearest friend Carmilla as she appeared in either my dreams or waking hours for this creature seemed less substantial somehow. This thing began to rock to and fro as a child will when seeking to comfort itself from some small upset. I willed myself to be still and not draw its attention to my form huddled in the bed. Slowly the head moved downwards as it raised both hands to its face. A soul rending sound reached my ears; it was a heartbreaking cry to heaven- a keening of darkest anguish that was rising from this misty dark haired girl. Even in my heightened state of terror I felt my heart ache and twist in sympathy for the suffering before me was like nothing I had ever seen. Its' arms wrapped around itself and her face reappeared with tangled strands of hair clinging to her cheeks and blood soaked chin as it looked my way. I could not help flinching as I felt her eyes bore into mine. She glided forward a few steps and raising one hand palm up; her mouth opened whimpering with some unspoken need. She was beseeching me for what I did not know nor did I feel the slightest bit encouraged to find out. Scooting back with my feet I sought to distance myself from this creature and found my back pressed hard against the wooden headboards. Seeing this monster that so resembled my companion Carmilla drenched in blood and in so much pain was driving me to heights of hysteria.

She took notice of my revulsion and stopped her forward movement; with the saddest expression she dropped her extended arm. Casting her eyes upwards as if she could see through the ceiling to the very stars she moaned in despair.

We faced each other across a chasm of time and space yet I was sure had she touched me I would have been lost; my soul forfeit-heaven denied for all eternity. This agony of fear was writ clearly on my face and with a dawning comprehension of my terror and disgust she began to weep. The tears began to course down her face. Like delicate hand cut rubies they flowed and sparkled against her skin. It was beautiful and disturbing; I could not look away. Her weeping was nearly soundless and so very human yet there was an alien quality to her that struck a discordant note. Time seemed to stretch before me as I waited, praying that I could wake from this dark drama. I stared at her not daring to look away for I feared of what would happen and this was a most prudent choice on my part.

The tears trickled to a stop beginning to clot leaving smears of blood on her cheeks. The visage of self-loathing, longing and desolate pain washed away and her face went still. The eyes seemed to shift and shimmer as the moss green color drained out leaving glowing yellow orbs in their place. A low hiss reached my ears and I looked on dismay as a ravenous look filled her face. Eyes shining with an unholy light her lips parted breathlessly showing a white glint of fangs.

I watched in amazement as her tongue snaked out and trailed across her lips catching on one of the sharp dagger like teeth. It pressed against this oversized tooth until blood dripped along the edges of her mouth. She smiled in a most unlady-like fashion and the sound rumbling from her delicate throat was equally unnatural. I was now aware I was facing my death and tremors wracked my body. The monster cruelly laughed then launched herself towards my bed with arms thrown out and her mouth opened in a feral cry.

I wakened with a shriek, possessed with the one idea that Carmilla was being murdered. The dream had been a warning; my friend was facing certain death and if I should delay would find her covered in blood and as cold as marble. Fearing for her safety I remember springing from my bed and my next recollection is that of standing in the lobby, crying for help. Madame and Mademoiselle came scurrying out of their rooms in alarm; a lamp burned always on the lobby table, and seeing me, they soon learned the cause of my terror.

I insisted on our knocking at Carmilla's door. Our knocking was unanswered. It soon became a pounding and then escalated into a loud panic as we beat against the door. We shrieked her name, but all was in vain. We all grew frightened, for the door was locked. We hurried back, in panic, to my room. There we rang the bell long and furiously. If my father's room had been at that side of the house, we would have called him up at once to our aid. But, alas! He was quite out of hearing, and to reach him involved an excursion for which we none of us had courage.

Servants, however, soon came running up the stairs; I had got on my dressing gown and slippers meanwhile, and my companions were already similarly furnished. Recognizing the voices of the servants in the lobby, we sallied out together; and having renewed, as fruitlessly as before, our summons at Carmilla's door, I ordered the men to force the lock. They did so, and we stood, holding our lights aloft, in the doorway, and so stared into the room. All was in darkness.

We called her by name; but there was still no reply. Candles and lamps were lit within the chamber which showed Carmilla not in her bed. We looked round the room. Everything was undisturbed. It was exactly in the state in which I had left it on bidding her good night. But Carmilla was gone!

At sight of the room, perfectly undisturbed except for our violent entrance, we began to cool a little, and soon recovered our senses sufficiently to dismiss the men. It had struck Mademoiselle that possibly Carmilla had been awakened by the uproar at her door, and in her first panic had jumped from her bed, and hid herself in a press, or behind a curtain, from which she could not, of course, emerge until the majordomo and his myrmidons had withdrawn. We now recommenced our search, and began to call her name again. It was all to no purpose. Our perplexity and agitation increased. We examined the windows, but they were secured. I implored of Carmilla, if she had concealed herself, to play this cruel trick no longer—to come out and put an end to our anxieties. It was all useless.

I was by this time convinced that she was not in the room, nor in the dressing room, the door of which was still locked on this side. She could not have passed it. I was utterly puzzled. Had Carmilla discovered one of those secret passages which the old housekeeper said were known to exist in the castle, although the tradition of their exact situation had been lost? A little time would, no doubt, explain all—utterly perplexed as, for the present, we were.

It was past four o'clock, and I preferred passing the remaining hours of darkness in Madame's room. She did her best to assure me that nothing untoward had happened to Carmilla. Madame suggested that perhaps my only friend had been awakened and sought a book in the library to soothe her back into slumber. Mayhap on her way back to her chamber she had become lost within the castle and chancing upon an empty room stole within to sleep. I wished that could have been true but the facts were self evident; the door been locked from the inside. The key still evident within the lock after the footmen had broken down the door.

Daylight brought no solution of the difficulty. The whole household, with my father at its head, was in a state of agitation the next morning. Every part of the estate and surrounding grounds was searched. The barns and outbuildings were explored. No trace of the missing lady could be discovered. The stream was about to be dragged; my father was in distraction; what a tale to have to tell the poor girl's mother on her return. I, too, was almost beside myself, though my grief was quite of a different kind.

The morning was passed in alarm and excitement. It was now one o'clock in the afternoon, and still there were no tidings from the missing girl. I wondered if perhaps something had been left behind; some scrap that would offer a hint to her whereabouts that had been missed in the first search.

I ran up to Carmilla's room, stumbling through the doorway and stared. I had found her and of all places right where she had last been seen. I found her standing at her dressing table pulling leaves from her hair. I was astounded. I could not believe my eyes. She beckoned me to her with her pretty finger, in silence. Her face expressed extreme fear.

I ran to her in an ecstasy of joy forgoing for the moment my questions over her nocturnal absence. I kissed and embraced her again and again. I ran to the bell and rang it vehemently in order to bring others to the spot that might at once relieve my father's anxiety by giving him the good news. Returning to her side I took her hand into my own and enjoined her to explain herself.

"Dear Carmilla, what has become of you all this time? We have been in agonies of anxiety about you," I exclaimed. "Where have you been? How did you come back?"

"Last night has been a night of wonders," she said.

"For mercy's sake, explain all you can."

"It was past two last night," she said, "when I went to sleep as usual in my bed, with my doors locked, that of the dressing room, and that opening upon the gallery. My sleep was uninterrupted, and, as far as I know, dreamless; but I woke just now on the sofa in the dressing room there, and I found the door between the rooms open, and the other door forced. How could all this have happened without my being wakened? It must have been accompanied with a great deal of noise, and I am particularly easily wakened; and how could I have been carried out of my bed without my sleep having been interrupted, I whom the slightest stir startles?"

I stared at her dumbstruck in confusion; had she been kidnapped by a fiend of the night only to be returned with no memory of it? It was most obvious she had been out of doors if for no other reason than the leaves she continued to drop onto the floor.

By this time, Madame, Mademoiselle, my father, and a number of the servants were pouring into the room. Carmilla was, of course, overwhelmed with inquiries, congratulations, and welcomes. She had but one story to tell, and seemed the least able of all the party to suggest any way of accounting for what had happened. My father took a turn up and down the room, thinking.

I saw Carmilla's eyes follow him for a moment with a sly, dark glance. When my father had sent the servants away, Mademoiselle having gone in search of a little bottle of valerian and salvolatile, and there being no one now in the room with Carmilla, except my father, Madame, and myself, he came to her thoughtfully, took her hand very kindly, led her to the sofa, and sat down beside her.

"Will you forgive me, my dear, if I risk a conjecture, and ask a question?"

"Who can have a better right?" she said. "Ask what you please, and I will tell you everything. But my story is simply one of bewilderment and darkness. I know absolutely nothing. Put any question you please, but you know, of course, the limitations mamma has placed me under."

"I understand perfectly my dear child. I need not approach the topics on which she desires our silence. Now, the marvel of last night consists in your having been removed from your bed and your room, without being wakened, and this removal having occurred apparently while the windows were still secured and the two doors locked upon the inside. I will tell you my theory and ask you a question."

Carmilla was leaning on her hand dejectedly; Madame and I were listening breathlessly.

"Now, my question is this. Have you ever been suspected of walking in your sleep?"

"Never, since I was very young indeed."

"But you did walk in your sleep when you were young?"

"Yes; I know I did. I have been told so often by my old nurse."

My father smiled and nodded.

"Well, what has happened is this. You got up in your sleep, unlocked the door, not leaving the key, as usual, in the lock, but taking it out and locking it on the outside; you again took the key out, and carried it away with you to some one of the five-and-twenty rooms on this floor, or perhaps upstairs or downstairs. There are so many rooms and closets, so much heavy furniture, and such accumulations of lumber, that it would require a week to search this old house thoroughly. Do you see, now, what I mean?"

"I do, but not all," she answered.

"And how, Papa, do you account for her finding herself on the sofa in the dressing room, which we had searched so carefully?"

"She came there after you had searched it, still in her sleep, and at last awoke spontaneously, and was as much surprised to find herself where she was as anyone else. I wish all mysteries were as easily and innocently explained as yours, Carmilla," he said, laughing.

"And so we may congratulate ourselves on the certainty that the most natural explanation of the occurrence is one that involves no drugging, no tampering with locks, no burglars, or poisoners, or witches—nothing that need alarm Carmilla, or anyone else, for our safety."

Carmilla was looking charmingly at him. Nothing could be more beautiful than her tints. Her beauty was, I think, enhanced by that graceful languor that was peculiar to her. I think my father was silently contrasting her looks with mine, for he said: "I wish my poor Laura was looking more like herself"; and he sighed. So our alarms were happily ended, and Carmilla restored to her friends. She stated that she would bathe and rest; asking me to leave her in peace for the remainder of the day.

With all due haste I stepped back to the entrance; as I was pulling the door shut behind me I happened to glance back and found her gazing into the mirror. Her eyes caught mine through the reflection and I felt my wind taken as the flat empty stare of her eyes pierced my heart. Her orbs seemed bottomless and cold; without mercy or fear. I gave her a quick smile even as my heart rolled in tension. She was my friend. I'd been terrified on her behalf so why was I now sensing it was her I should be afraid of rather than a monster in the night?

As Carmilla would not hear of an attendant sleeping in her room, my father arranged that a servant should sleep outside her door, so that she would not attempt to make another such excursion without being arrested at her own door. She understood it was for her own safety; after all what if she tumbled down the stairs in her sleep? She acquiesced without complaint. I was ushered back to my chambers upon Madame's suggestion that the long worrisome night had left me overwrought.

"My child you appear spent, rest now and I shall awaken you for dinner." She was in the doorframe when I begged her company.

"Madame please do not abandon me for I shall not sleep peacefully without you nearby. I fear the dreams that may come. Would you stay within and watch over me?"

Her sweet face puckered in concern. She crossed to my bed and sat alongside me, petting my hair as she had done when I was but a small child. She hushed me and whispered with a gentle smile.

"Dearest girl never would I leave you if you had need of me. I have loved you as if you were my very own daughter and would never abandon you even if the hounds of hell were at the door. Rest now and I will stay by your bed watching over you. Fear nothing for I will remain."

I felt the tension leave my body and clutched her hand within mine as I lay back. I needed to keep in contact with her kindness for I had recalled something most distressing. Father had been sure Carmilla removed the key herself; taking it with her when she began her nocturnal wanderings. But I remembered. In terror for her I had stood to the side with my lamp held high and watched as the footmen forced the door. I had seen with mine own eyes the glint of light that reflected off the lock and key. Something was amiss and Carmilla was in the thick of it; what evil was haunting her? Did it seek us both for some nefarious purpose? God save us both!

Dinner was a solemn affair that night. I sat down and commented on Carmilla's empty seat. Father stated that she had been most disturbed by the recent events and was desirous of having her meal in her chambers. After which she would take to bed to rest. It was all I could do to feign interest in my meal. My mind whirled with worry and I dreaded the coming of the night. I followed Papa into the drawing room but could not sit still. He glanced at me periodically with concern but refrained from badgering me with questions. I selected a book and attempted to lose myself with the story. The words mattered not given that I could not focus on the page before me. Sighing and unsure why I was so unsettled I stood up to pace before the windows. Father suggested a hot bath and warm drink would soon see me to rights. Not wanting to distress him further I bid him goodnight and headed for the kitchen. Finding Cook chatting over tea with the housemaids I apologized for my intrusion.

"Cook, might you have warm milk still on? I should like a cup of chocolate."

Giving me a warm smile she sat me down in her favorite rocking chair by the cooling hearth.

"Rest young miss, it shall only take a moment." I noted that the housemaids had ceased their happy chatter upon my entrance and now looked at me with some unease. I kept my eyes on the dying embers and for the first time felt a stranger in my own home.

Thanking Cook for my drink I bade them all a good night and removed myself upstairs. Reaching my chambers I could not countenance the thought of sleeping here alone. Charms or not I no longer felt safe. I stood there gazing upon the new room that I had spent so much time decorating but the shadows terrified me and I fled for sanctuary. Moving quickly down the hall I knocked on Madams door and waited twitching with anxiety. She unlocked her door and peered out at me, cap askew.

"Laura my child what is wrong?"

"Madame I beg your indulgence. Might I pass the night here, in your room? I would gladly take the truckle bed."

She opened the door and ushered me in. "Nay you shall sleep with me, surely your father is a gracious man for this bed is large enough for a family."

I gratefully hugged her and made for the fire. Even in the height of summer many rooms of the castle retain a chill and Madame was growing older; feeling the cold more sharply than she was wont to admit. Hearing the door close I was startled by the sound of the lock engaging. I raised my eyebrows and Madame grimaced in embarrassment.

"The whole of the castle has become tense, fear stalks these ancient halls and I feel safer with the door secured. We shall be safe here for I have cast holy water about the room."

"Holy water! Madame; why ever would you do such a thing? Has the priest come to visit? Has another person been stricken down?"

"No dear girl, I went to the village last week to visit with my sister. She told me tales of demons and monsters haunting the wood along the roads seeking out lone travelers. All have been told to be within before dusk, to lock their homes against the noxious night air that provides succor to the creatures that strike down our loved ones."

She shuddered and her eyes glazed over as she recalled the previous trip.

"I enjoyed my visit but was most anxious to return to the castle for even though the distance is a short one by carriage I was reminded by Thomas that he still wished to see his family as he was especially concerned about his young sister. Thomas comes from a family of Glovers but being the last of many sons he came here to seek other service."

Suddenly Madame glanced my way and smiled, "Even though they make goods for the royal family and are considered a most wealthy merchant family I am sure that you have noticed Thomas has hands far too large to be engaged in delicate leather needlework."

I laughed aloud and felt a weight lift from me in the simple act of feeling happy. Yes I had noticed Thomas and found him a most handsome and kind gentleman. Yet I had thought him of uncertain circumstance which would preclude Father from considering him a husband for me. Now I would certainly avail dear Papa of this information in the hope that the shy smiles and gentle conversation I'd had with Thomas might be a sign he cared for me. Feeling comforted I climbed into the bed and lay a short distance from Madame. She was staring at the ceiling beams and she continued on in a hushed voice.

"Thomas and I arrived at his family business; they own the whole building did you know? I am rambling, apologies my pet. We spent a comfortable visit with his family and saw that all were hale and hearty. Thomas's mother stated in a most certain voice that since the village priest had blessed all the windows and doorways all had slept with the happiest of dreams. Although Michelle the black eyed, dark haired daughter said her mastiff frequently woke her with his growling."

Shuddering slightly in memory Madame said that Michelle had been convinced on many occasions she been woken by an unseen presence which she hesitated to put a name to; she feared naming it would encourage it to return. She kept candles burning to drive out the shadows but remained convinced in both her heart and mind that something wicked was seeking egress into her room and only her fierce dog had kept it at bay. I watched the memories chase across Madame's face and wondered aloud why a dog would be better than holy water.

Madame smiled sadly and said, "Not better dear heart-just different; another form of protection. Another form of life to watch over us all be our companions and remind us of our humanity. The dog's life is entwined with ours like no other creature on this earth. As we suffer when God removes his love so does the dog when we remove ours. Then they are cast out, adrift to fend for themselves in this harsh world much like the sinner they suffer always trying to find a way back. Lost, fearful, alone and seeking our acceptance as we turn back to God for his. Saint Francis knew this and he loved the animals as our God loves us. There is no more devoted animal to mankind than the dog. They guard our flocks, protect our homes and would lay down their lives to save our own."

She gazed sadly at me and said, "Thomas remains devoted to his sister and ensured her that George for that is the dogs name would keep her safe but I could tell Thomas was in terror for his family. As we were leaving he told me that we had one more stop to make. Putting the horses into a fast pace he drew them in at the church entrance. Leaping from the carriage he ignored my protests and raced up the church steps. I clamored down and followed him in. He was lighting a candle for each member of his family. I counted the flames and realized he was starting a veritable fire."

She continued on in a hushed voice telling me how she had grabbed at Thomas in confusion. "He turned at my plucking of his sleeve and said, 'For my family, for us and most of all for the Lady Laura.' Then he blushed hotly and I moved back to watch. Finishing with the votives he turned from the candles and thinking we were about to leave I attempted to change the subject for it had distressed my soul to see him so worried. Asking him if his sister had named the dog after the King he gave me the most searching look, then said, 'no after Saint George the dragon slayer.''

I closed my eyes and imagined Thomas with his unruly blonde curls glowing like an angels in the firelight of the church. I sighed with the drama of it all while Madame continued on, "I followed him back towards the font and watched in amazement as he fumbled empty oiled leather neck fobs from his person. He saw my eyes pop in amazement and explained that he himself had been making them each evening. He would fill them all with holy water and pass them out to each that would accept. Once he was done he placed one in my hands and begged me to keep it on my person at all times."

Pulling aside the neck of her night rail she showed me the leather thong that draped her neck and the leather pouch that rested on her bosom. I was quite put upon for Thomas had not made me such an offer! It was most strange and I resolved to speak to him in the morning. Madame then kissed me on the forehead as she had done when I was a small child and with that I fell into the deepest sleep.

That night passed quietly; and early the next morning, the doctor, whom my father had sent for without telling me a word about it, arrived to see me. He joined us for breakfast unlike Carmilla who had remained in her room as was her wont. Father stated he would speak with the doctor in private and he enjoined me to go no farther than the moat. The order; for that is what it was- in mind, I excused myself to seek out Thomas. I found him rather quickly for he was sitting just inside the castle walls hunched over some task in the morning sun. Scraps of leather lay about his feet as he worked fashioning more of those oiled leather fobs that Madame had mentioned.

He must have felt my shadow upon him as I had not time to announce my presence before he took note of my arrival with a pleased greeting.

"Lady Laura how are you this fine morning?"

Jumping up he flashed me a smile even as he bowed. "Have you found another tapestry you would like moved?"

I could not help but smile back although I was most vexed with him.

"No Thomas, no tapestry today. Rather a question for you."

"My lady only need speak her desires and I shall obey."

Although his answer caused a tightening low in my belly and my nipples to harden beneath my dress I reminded myself that my desires were not what I needed to address at the moment.

Sighing for the want of him I asked, "What are you making?"

Rubbing his thumbs across the fob in his hands he said in voice laced with foreboding, "These are sacred protection for members of the estate, now that I have given one to each inhabitant of the castle I must finish these and ensure all have one in their possession. Something wicked has come and we must protect that which we hold dear. There is about us a circle of death that grows tighter with each passing week."

A sudden rage swept through me causing my hands to clench into tight fists while I struggled to maintain my composure as the lady of the house. This man that I dreamt of and wished with all my heart would take notice of me had not even given thought to my safety. He did not hold me in a special place within his heart. Despite all my longing I remained nothing more to him because of the strictures society placed between servants and the gentry. Knowing all this did not lessen my heartache nor did it harden my resolve to think of him as merely a servant.

Yet it was in a querulous and pained voice that I challenged him, "Do you not hold me dear to you? Am I not a friend to all? Have I given you any cause to wish me ill?"

He gaped in shock and sputtered out, "Nay my lady, I made one for you and your friend Carmilla the same afternoon as those I made for my family."

Standing abruptly he let the fob fall from his hands to grasp my still fisted ones and pulled me much closer than I should have allowed. His eyes burned into mine as he slowly shook his head.

"My lady I know that I rise above my position here but I would have you know that I would give my life to protect yours."

He continued on while I stared at him silently as my heart pounded in my chest with the knowledge that even as death stalked us all; my darling Thomas cared for me beyond all others.

"I offered her one when I could not find you and begged her to bring the other to you. She spat at me and called me the most horrid names stating that I was no priest. Then when I explained I had already ensured the safety of my family by handing them out she laughed in my face calling me a simple minded peasant. Given the fact that she suffers from a nervous disorder I attributed her behavior to that and the unsettling events of the past few weeks."

He shook his head and sighed in memory of the encounter. "I was most sorry to offend your guest. I apologized most profusely begging her understanding. I told her the stories I had heard, the deaths, the foul air that brought an evil sickness to the healthiest among us causing a strange wasting of body and soul. She would hear none of it. In a desperate desire to gainsay her and have her take the two talismans I told her that my sister had found it most helpful and was no longer troubled by the noxious night terrors she experienced thrice in one week that left her drained and exhausted the next day. She seemed startled at first then stepped back towards me with a cunning look saying, "Night terrors? What pray tell was the cause of her sudden affliction. As I have heard tell she is quite well."

I hesitated at first for I was still unclear how she would have gained such knowledge given that she avoided any interaction with the staff save to give orders. Small as your guest is in stature I felt an unnatural anxiety in her presence the longer she remained close."

He paused and looked about as if finding it difficult to continue his story.

Taking a deep breath and looking decidedly embarrassed he said, "I saw no good reason not to tell her and explained that my sister remained convinced something had tried to enter her room three times in a week which kept her in a state of anxiety throughout the night leaving her drained the next day. At first my family thought it was nothing more than simple nightmares due to the tales of the demon that stalked the night preying on the innocent which is all that one hears these days. After I enjoined them to each accept a fob of holy water she seemed much relieved and suffered no longer from the terrors of the night."

Shaking his head in confusion Thomas said, "I had thought this might sway her to accept my offering but she looked disgusted altogether. Sneering at me she stalked away and I heard her mutter, "Foolish man it's not charms and amulets that keep her safe but that damned dog."

Poor Thomas he had not found a friend in Carmilla; she who disdained servants and anyone else she deemed beneath her. I squeezed his hands in friendship.

"Thomas I apologize on behalf of Carmilla. She did not disclose to me that you had made these amulets and I for one would be most glad to have one."

He pulled open his shirt and I saw two leather thongs laid against his throat.

Smiling a bit sheepishly he said, "I gave away the one I made for her but I have kept yours here with me; close to my heart in the hope I might see you safely wear it."

He removed it and stepping forward he requested permission to place it around my throat. I felt the cool fob slosh a bit as it settled against my bosom and smiled up at him.

"Thank you Thomas, I shall treasure this gift as a measure of your good concern for me."

Looking about and seeing Madame approaching I hastened to ask another favor for an idea had sparked itself and I would see it through.

"Thomas, this dog of your sisters; pray tell where did she get it?"

"My uncle Henry, he lives ten leagues from here. He was once the master of the horse for the House of Hanover. During a trip to France in search of the finest carriage horses to enrich the royal stables he came upon a most unusual breed of mastiff. The giant red dog with fierce amber eyes comes from the Bordeaux region which has long been the preferred guardian of the nobility. He returned home with three puppies and once a year he gifts a puppy to those he deems worthy. Today he still trains a limited number of horses but he retains the greatest pride in his dogs."

I was now sure what I must do to protect myself. Papa would not approve but I sensed this was a matter of life and death; mine.

"Thomas please do you think your uncle would find me worthy?"

I had to hurry now as Madame was only steps away.

"Please Thomas this is of the utmost importance to me; I shall give you permission to leave. You must not tell anyone where you are going. Please I beg you for my safety, for my very life, could you take a fast horse from our stables and bring me a fierce Bordeaux dog for my comfort?"

I saw Thomas take a deep breath then he greeted Madame most honorably. Smiling again at me, he said, "Rest assured Lady Laura I shall do as I am bid. Today I will go. Look for my return in four days time."

I sighed with a sense of relief I had not felt in some time.

Madame accompanied me to the library; and there the grave little doctor, with white hair and spectacles, whom I mentioned before, was waiting to receive me.

I told him my story leaving out the naughty bits, and as I proceeded he grew ever more grave in his expression. We were standing, he and I, in the recess of one of the windows, facing one another. When my statement was over, he leaned with his shoulders against the wall, and with his eyes fixed on me earnestly, with an interest in which was a dash of horror. After a minute's reflection, he asked Madame if he could see my father.

He was sent for accordingly, and as he entered, smiling, he said: "I dare say, doctor, you are going to tell me that I am an old fool for having brought you here; I hope I am."

But his smile faded into shadow as the doctor, with a very solemn face, beckoned him closer.

He and the doctor talked for some time in the same recess where I had just conferred with the physician. It seemed an earnest and argumentative conversation. I strained to hear what they were speaking of but they kept so low that only a low murmur reached my ears. The room is very large, and I and Madame stood together, burning with curiosity, at the farther end.

We moved closer to the couch as if to sit and wait yet we both knew it was a farce; it was curiosity that was undoing us. Still not a word could we comprehend, for they spoke in hushed voices, and the deep recess of the window quite concealed the doctor from view, and very nearly my father, whose foot, arm, and shoulder only could we see; and the voices were, I suppose, all the less audible for the sort of closet which the thick wall and window formed.

After a time my father's face looked into the room; it was pale, thoughtful, and, I fancied, agitated.

"Laura, dear, come here for a moment. Madame, we shan't trouble you, the doctor says, at present."

Accordingly I approached, for the first time a little alarmed; for, although I felt very weak, I did not feel ill; and strength, one always fancies, is a thing that may be picked up when we please.

My father held out his hand to me, as I drew near, but he was looking at the doctor, and he said: "It certainly is very odd; I don't understand it quite. Laura, come here, dear; now attend to Doctor Spielsberg, and recollect yourself."

"You mentioned a sensation like that of two needles piercing the skin, somewhere about your neck, on the night when you experienced your first horrible dream. Is there still any soreness?"

"None at all," I answered.

"Can you indicate with your finger about the point at which you think this occurred?"

"Very little below my throat—here," I answered.

I wore a morning dress, which covered the place I pointed to. "Now you can satisfy yourself," said the doctor. "You won't mind your papa's lowering your dress a very little. It is necessary, to detect a symptom of the complaint under which you have been suffering."

I acquiesced. It was only an inch or two below the edge of my collar.

"God bless me!—so it is," exclaimed my father, growing pale.

"You see it now with your own eyes," said the doctor, with a gloomy triumph.

"What is it?" I exclaimed, beginning to be frightened.

"Nothing, my dear young lady, but a small blue spot, about the size of the tip of your little finger; and now," he continued, turning to papa, "the question is what is best to be done?"

"Is there any danger?" I urged, in great trepidation. In truth I had noticed the spot but there were others on the inside of my thighs and one at the front of my sex where my pubic hair used to be. I had thought them marks left from my nightly passions of which I could not speak to the doctor or my father.

"I trust not, my dear," answered the doctor. "I don't see why you should not recover. I don't see why you should not begin immediately to get better. That is the point at which the sense of strangulation begins?"

"Yes," I answered.

"And—recollect as well as you can—the same point was a kind of center of that thrill which you described just now, like the current of a cold stream running against you?"

"It may have been; I think it was."

I did not however mention the aching need in my breasts and loins which begged for release each time I slumbered. Nor did it seem wise to offer up the intimate situations I had gotten to with Carmilla so many times this summer.

"Ay, you see?" he added, turning to my father. "Shall I say a word to Madame?"

"Certainly," said my father.

He called Madame to him, and said: "I find my young friend here far from well. It won't be of any great consequence, I hope; but it will be necessary that some steps be taken, which I will explain by-and-by; but in the meantime, Madame, you will be so good as not to let Miss Laura be alone for one moment. That is the only direction I need give for the present. It is indispensable."

"We may rely upon your kindness, Madame, I know," added my father.

Madame satisfied him eagerly with vigorous nodding of her head.

"And you, dear Laura, I know you will observe the doctor's direction."

"I shall have to ask your opinion upon another patient, whose symptoms slightly resemble those of my daughter, that have just been detailed to you—very much milder in degree, but I believe quite of the same sort. She is a young lady—our guest; but as you say you will be passing this way again this evening, you can't do better than take your supper here, and you can then see her. She does not come down till the afternoon."

"I thank you," said the doctor. "I shall be with you, then, at about seven this evening."

And then they repeated their directions to me and to Madame, and with this parting charge my father left us, and walked out with the doctor; and I saw them pacing together up and down between the road and the moat, on the grassy platform in front of the castle, evidently absorbed in earnest conversation.

The doctor did not return. I saw him mount his horse there, take his leave, and ride away eastward through the forest. Nearly at the same time I saw the man arrive from Dranfield with the letters, and dismount handing the bag to my father.

In the meantime, Madame and I were both busy, lost in conjecture as to the reasons of the singular and earnest direction which the doctor and my father had concurred in imposing. Madame, as she afterwards told me, was afraid the doctor apprehended a sudden seizure, and that, without prompt assistance, I might either lose my life in a fit, or at least be seriously hurt.

The interpretation did not strike me; and I fancied, perhaps luckily for my nerves, that the arrangement was prescribed simply to secure a companion who would prevent my taking too much exercise, or eating unripe fruit, or doing any of the fifty foolish things to which so many young people are supposed to be prone.

About half an hour after my father came in—he had a letter in his hand—and said: "This letter had been delayed; it is from General Spielsdorf. He had planned to arrive tomorrow but has been delayed and is expected to arrive in three or four day's time."

He put the open letter into my hand; but he did not look pleased, as he was used to when a guest, especially one so much loved as the General, was coming. On the contrary, he looked as if he wished him at the bottom of the Red Sea. There was plainly something on his mind which he did not choose to divulge.

"Papa, darling, will you tell me this?" said I, suddenly laying my hand on his arm, and looking, I am sure, imploringly in his face. "Perhaps," he answered, smoothing my hair caressingly over my eyes.

"Does the doctor think me very ill?"

"No, dear; he thinks, if right steps are taken, you will be quite well again, at least, on the high road to a complete recovery, in a day or two," he answered, a little dryly. "I wish our good friend, the General, had chosen any other time; that is, I wish you had been perfectly well to receive him."

"But do tell me, Papa," I insisted, "what does he think is the matter with me?"

"Nothing; you must not plague me with questions," he answered, with more irritation than I ever remember him to have displayed before; and seeing that I looked wounded, I suppose, he kissed me, and added, "You shall know all about it in a day or two; that is, all that I know. In the meantime you are not to trouble your head about it."

He turned and left the room, but came back before I had done wondering and puzzling over the oddity of all this; it was merely to say that he was going to the village to see the priest on business and would return in time for dinner. I spent the rest of the day swanning about; flitting from one room to the next unable to find something to distract me. Papa had asked that I stay within sight of the castle windows or even better inside within its' walls. Poor Madame was trotting on my heels as I moved about with no direction or purpose to my movements.

Finally in complaint of her knees she suggested we take some lunch. I demurred to her age and sore legs as long as she would consent to eat in the kitchen. She hesitated unsure and asked, "Would you disobey your father and lunch by yourself risking his displeasure of us both?"

"No I only wish to sit among others and not haunt that large room with just the two of us. Mademoiselle has a headache and it's likely Carmilla will be dining in her chambers. I would enjoy the comfort of being surrounded by people but do you think it would upset the servants; would they feel encroached upon?"

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. "Ah Laura you have been nipping into the kitchen since you learned to walk. Twill be alright."

Entering the kitchen I found that most of the servants had already arrived for their afternoon meal and again they looked uneasy at my approach. I bid them a good day and feeling out of sorts I sat down while Madame chatted with Cook. Hushed voices trickled past my ears but I could make no sense of any words. Cook placed a platter of warm bread, butter and a thick beef stew before me.

Smiling warmly at me she said, "Eat my dear, you have been looking wan lately. This will fill both your belly and your heart."

Thanking her quietly I reached for the bread and noticed that the room had grown silent. I paused in raising the steaming bread to my mouth when I realized that many eyes were staring with some fascination. I lowered the bread and heard the slightest gasp from Anna the gardeners' daughter. Swiveling my head around I looked each person in the face but as my eyes met theirs they would turn away or shutter their eyes; lowering their view from mine.

Whatever had I done? I felt shunned in my own home by the very people that normally appeared cheered to see me. Hot tears pricked my eyes and I wondered if perhaps Carmilla and I had been seen during indelicate moments. I considered the possibility that I had forever ruined myself and destroyed any hope I may have once had for future happiness. Sighing with bitter regret I stiffened my spine resolving not fall apart; it would only increase the gossip. I remembered Thomas and his kind shining face. Feeling cheered by the memory I touched the leather fob tucked below my neckline which gave me strength.

I grinned at Madame and laughed, "Whatever was I thinking, in my haste I forgot Cooks excellent butter."

Reaching for the bowl I concentrated on what my hands were doing for suddenly I felt weak with tremors in my extremities. It took all my strength to move the bowl towards me without dropping it.

Seeing my dismay Madame leaned into me and whispered, "Tis no wonder you are weak, lack of sleep and a lackluster appetite has drained you of vitality. Allow me to assist you."

Raising her voice she chattered on brightly, "Laura it brings joy to my heart that you are feeling so much better" then she continued with increasing volume, "now that you retain the holy water about your person I am most assured of your swift recovery."

Every pair of ears in the room was attuned to Madame Perrodons' strident voice and nobody noticed when she passed me the heavily buttered bread. My eyes smiled my thanks to her and I again raised the bread to my lips. The air in the room had grown heavy and I paused, taking note of the stares directed my way. I grinned impishly at them all and shouted, "To your health."

Instead of taking small bites as I had been taught I ripped off a good size chuck and let my cheeks bulge with joy as I chewed. With that bite the tension in the room drifted away and the servants looked to their own meals with increasing chatter.

Lunch went on around me as I remained silent and concentrated on filling my belly. Cook and Madame rattled on with village gossip which meant their near proximity drowned out the other voices which flowed around the large wooden trestle tables. It was just as both ladies raised their cups that a singular male voice sounded, "I have heard it told the wolves do not bother the gypsies camped in the forest midway between here and the village."

All three of us stilled and waited for him to continue. Fritz realized we were staring at him and he apologized saying, "I am sorry I should not have spoken so in gentle company."

I waved my hand and bid him continue, "Please say on; I would do much to be distracted."

Glances ran through the room but Fritz spoke, "I was there all day yesterday. As Cook knows I was sent along with two grooms to have damaged kitchen implements repaired. We loaded a cart and horse then set off to the gypsy encampment. By the by I owe you a measure of thanks for the excellent hamper you included for our lunch."

Giving Cook a wink that made a blush hide her freckles Fritz leaned back to tell us his story. I recall it for you now; at the time I did not understand the implication but in later days all was made clear.

"We found them near a still water where the oxbow river had slowed and formed a small pond. Children shouted greetings and alerted the camp as we neared, although with all the clanking from the cart I cannot see how they could have been unaware of us approaching for thirty minutes or more. Young ladies drifted away to tend their children but the older ones were quite bold in their glances."

Fritz leaned over and chuffed one of the men nearest him. Laughing he said, "Poor Stefan was flustered by it all!" The beleaguered Stefan grinned back without rancor.

"We waited as is custom for the senior man to make us welcome. After a few moments a broad shouldered man with long silver hair strode out. Watching us with the palest eyes I have ever seen in a gypsy he paused as if to take our measure. Apparently we were found not wanting for he flashed large white teeth and in guttural accent laden French he bid us to follow him to the cart. Everything was removed and he ran his hands over each damaged piece. Naming his price he extended a callous ridden hand for the coins. I paid him in full and he agreed that the work would be done long before dusk could see us home. We were offered drink and food but showed him the hamper we had brought so as not to strain their hospitality. The day was growing warm as the sun climbed higher so we took to the shade. Settling comfortably with our backs against a log we were chatting about this and that as children scampered around us. Sometime later I noted that a few of them some still so young they crawled with bells tied round their ankles also sported those icy gray eyes. I grew curious remarking to Stefan that no girl child bore the strange color and none over the age of ten seemed to have them either."

Stefan cut in and said "Most likely they were hiding from us, gypsies are a secretive lot and many places do not treat them kindly."

Nicholas who had been there with them bobbed his head in agreement. He rarely spoke as his stutter impacted his willingness to make idle conversation but he was one of the finest grooms my father had ever seen. Five years ago he had been found sleeping in a stall with a newly purchased stallion that the rest of the grooms dreaded going near. Eventually father was given to understand that Nicholas had been wandering about in the twilight trying to snare a few rabbits for the family dinner when he heard wretched screams come from his homestead. Racing home he'd seen nothing untoward but upon entering had found his entire family slaughtered. They had lived just beyond the estate borders less than fifteen miles from us.

Nicholas had hidden in a hay stile in a nearby field until morning light dawned and the shadows retreated. Then he made his way to us terror giving flight to his feet, as Nicholas was Jewish he had despaired that his family died for not being Christian. My father being well traveled was noted for his tolerance of the Jews; immediately offered the terrified boy his shelter until relatives could be found to provide for him. Papa was a devout Catholic but had always told me that the world is full of different kinds of people and each find their own way to God. We should never judge them overly harsh if their path to Gods' mercy is different from our own. On finding Nicholas' uncanny skill with animals Papa offered him a home and salary for life.

I was watching kind hearted Nicholas and saw him lean over and poke Fritz in the shoulder to gain his attention. With much animation he then pointed to his eyes, lowering his eyebrows he swung his head to and fro sniffing like a dog. Then he jerked upright and grimaced. We all stared at him with questioning eyes. He sighed with frustration and pantomimed again. We watched as he went through the same motions; glaring eyes, hard low stare, sniffing, sudden alertness then the wide grimace to which he added a growl while pointing to his teeth. In shock I leaned back thinking he was having the same dark dreams that had plagued me these many weeks.

What else could he be referring to? He must have seen the massive black cat in his dreams as I had. Its' size and shape was reported to be like the South American panthers that haunt the jungles; I knew for I had seen drawings in Papas' biological texts within the library. Nicholas raised his hand to poke Fritz again but Fritz brushed it aside with a question.

"What is it? Am I telling the story too slowly?"

Nicholas shook his head in frustration and huffed. He slapped the table then held up one finger. Again he went through the pantomime but this time slightly different. He pointed to his eyes and cast about him a hard stare. He pointed to his eyebrows and dropped his head glaring at those across from him. Next he tugged at his hair and pulled the tops of his ears. I was still confused until he threw back his head and howled. My scalp prickled in recognition and my eyes grew wide in alarm. Gasps intermingled with nervous giggles until Fritz gave a mirthful shout.

"I have been advised by our ever silent friend that I should get to the important parts of our day." He continued on, "As I recall the day remained uneventful, we had our lunch, ticked off the list as repaired items were shown to us and placed back into the cart. After a time the best friend a beast ever had; our ever reliable friend here stood up and we understood that he would be taking the horse to the water's edge for another drink. Not long after Stefan remarked the sun had begun to scrape the tree tops and if we should be home before dusk there was not much time. I made to approach the gypsy chief to enquire if our repairs would be made in time or if he would offer us safety for the night. I for my part was not comfortable with the idea of sleeping under the stairs given all the strange deaths that have visited this area."

He paused to sip from his beaker and it was obvious that he would relate something extraordinary given the feeling within the room. Yet I sensed he had told this story before; it seemed that only I was flinching with mounting tension. The rest of the room looked suitably frightened but much like children who had already heard a ghost story and wished it to scare them anew most were grinning in anticipation.

"Right, well the shadows had begun to creep across the campsite by the time the cart was loaded and Nicholas had re-harnessed the horse. We were making haste to leave for it would take us some hours to walk back. I was watching the gypsy leader approach when he waved his arm and shouted something in a language I had never heard before. I assumed it was some Romany dialect they spoke amongst themselves. Then they appeared."


	8. Chapter 8

Stefan laughed nervously and interjected, "that was damned odd, they came without a sound and none of us had set sight on them all day but they must have been nearby." I watched as all three men cast meaningful glances at one another. I could not help myself, leaning forward I asked, "What was it, what has you all so unnerved?"

"Ah miss it was nothing otherworldly or shocking just some young men. They were large and well muscled like the strongmen in fables or the myths of Hercules but they moved with a measured grace which surprised me as they were a head taller than myself. Each had long black hair tied back with oiled leather strips. I noted grey and silver streaks through their hair yet their faces were hardly lined. Young men aged beyond their years which I assumed was caused by the harshness of their nomadic existence. It was not until they moved into the fading sun's rays that I felt myself draw back. It was their eyes; glowing silver and shining in the light. All of them as if they were a matched set, each face carved from oak with flat hard eyes of frozen ice." He shuddered dramatically and laughed to dispel his own unease.

"The gypsy leader strode over to us and told me that four of these men would accompany us back as far as the castle gate to ensure our safety. I glanced up and saw that twilight was rapidly approaching. In my hesitation he reached up tapped my leather bag hanging from my neck. He said 'This helps but is not enough-only a beast can truly protect you from the monster' I glanced back at the ashen eyed men and wondered if it was their beastly appearance that would protect us. Not wishing to insult this proud man I thanked him without asking if his men barked like hounds to ward away imaginary demons."

I noted that all of the women and most of the men had reached with trembling fingers to touch the leather pouches round their throats as I had done. It seemed we all had talismans against our dark dreams and sunlit fears. My forehead wrinkled in surprise as I realized that Nicholas also had an oiled fob pressing against his woolen shirt. Given his beliefs I was stunned to realize that I might not be the only one so terrified of what waited in the dark that I would try nearly anything to save myself. He had already lost his family to some unknown evil; he must now be willing to risk much more to keep the danger at bay. Stefan noticed my stare and said not unkindly, "He managed to convince Thomas to make one for each of his precious charges including that yappy dog and grey mouser of his. Just yesterday I helped him tie a holy water fob to each halter but I allowed him to handle that nasty brute of a stallion and those two sneaky pets that follow him about in the stables."

Nicholas straightened his shoulders and his mouth began to work; slowly and with agonizing care he said, "Animals have no religion but they have God-they trust in Saint Francis, they trust in me. For them I must do my best."

Eyes grew round in every face within the kitchen. He slumped as if drained from the strain of forming the words but his eyes swam with unshed tears. Not in five years had he spoken that many words in one day. Helena one of the parlor maids leaned into him and held his hand.

She said, "You have a mighty heart to care so much, may God bless and keep you." Nicholas smiled his appreciation at her and resumed his sphinx like silence. Stefan then took up the tale.

"We moved onto the road and by then the sun was just a dim orange glow to the west as we moved smartly east. Nicholas and I walked on either side of the horse with two gypsies slightly ahead of us. Fritz followed the cart with his new friends. I was not really paying attention to our surroundings just focusing on the road and hoping Cook would have left us a cold plate for our return. I noticed Nicholas waving one hand over his head trying to draw my attention. He pointed at himself and rolled his head around while sniffing at the air; then pointed at the men before us. It took me a moment to catch on but I realized he was right."

"Those silent gentlemen were actually sniffing the passing breeze. I raised my head in tune with theirs but I could smell only myself and the horse; wondering what they were doing I gave a shout. They turned and looked at me; then most oddly they glanced back along the wooded road. Coming to some agreement one remained a few yards ahead while the other slowed his pace until we came along side him. I was not sure he would speak but I was astounded as he said in perfect French, 'Do you have some worry?'"

"I must have appeared a simple minded fool for he repeated the question in equally elegant German."

"Regaining my senses I asked him where he had hidden his weapons since we for all intents and purposes were a band of unarmed men trudging along in the dark with who knew what horrors lurking in the night."

The gypsy laughed long and loud, 'Fear nothing for as long as your remain in our company you will be safe. There are other things in the night which even the monsters themselves desire to avoid.' I wondered if the gypsies were of a certain type of men, the intimidation they can create through their size alone- perhaps they had become mired in a false sense of security. I recall looking back at Nicholas who just rolled his eyes again and shrugged at me. Within two hours we had reached the post which let us know we were more than half way back to the castle and while my heart was longing for the sight of the torches marking the stone bridge I felt myself watched. I was not only who sensed this as even the horse began to toss her head and whicker in agitation. Good Nicholas comforted the mare and we hastened our pace."

Fritz interjected, "I know I too could sense a change and briefly wondered if we had to make a run for it, thinking the stubby legs of the cob would never be fast enough. I felt the hair prickle on the back of my neck but it was a real fright when one of those silent fellows clapped me on the shoulder and told me to place myself onto the wagon."

Nicholas began nodding his head up and down then shuddered most dramatically and I wondered how much for effect and what was a true reaction to a recalled fright.

Stefan began again, "Yes we told the same but Nicholas climbed upon the cobs' back."

Turning to Nicholas he posed a question.

"Why did you do that anyway? You would have been safer in the cart with us. We are much more stout than you."

Nicholas began to toss his head, twitching his shoulder as if fighting off an oncoming fit then with one hand he began to stroke his neck and run one hand along his side.

It was perplexing for a moment but another young boy said, "That's how he becalms the skittish horses, he rubs their necks and flanks while humming some tune I do not know." Nicholas pointed one finger at him smiling in agreement and tapped his forehead which indicated the boot boy was correct.

Fritz cleared his throat and resumed his spell binding tale; "I noted that once we were within the cart the gypsies closed ranks-all but one who remained behind us but at a greater distance. His next movement was to slink off into the woods! I made to shout and alert his other friends that something was wrong and we should halt at once. You cannot imagine my surprise when one gypsy leapt ahead of us opening up the distance while the other grabbed the horses bridle urging her into a fast trot. At the same time he grunted out, 'Be silent and you will remain alive to see the morning.' Too say I was unnerved would be the greatest of understatements. There we were holding on in fright and clanking through the night as if in the midst of same dark fairy tale."

A few of the maids squealed in mutual in horror and delight as if they were huddled before a roaring hearth during a winter storm while the winds scraped against the glass as some ancient pensioner told an old scary story meant for such nights. You have probably heard some of these stories yourself; pitched on the floor with adults scattered about, sparks and embers fly as you relish the next line waiting for the thrill and then the children huddle and shriek in mock fear for they know they are safe within. Their faces warm with heat and blood rushing in the excitement they are toddled off to bed with visions of trolls, dragons and the brave knights that engage them in battle.

Fritz smiled at this momentary excitement he had caused; grinning wickedly at the maids he must have thought himself quite the catch.

He leaned forward on his elbows and said, "It was a bit of a shock, yes it most certainly was and while any young man enjoys a bit of adventure crashing about amongst the pans was not what I considered high drama, more of a lark and I feared this was all some pretext for robbing us of all we had and leaving our bodies for the ravens to feast upon."

Nicholas gave a disgusted snort and with a beetle-browed stare stuck out his tongue at Fritz.

"Yes I know dear man, not a charitable thought but brigands, murderers and thieves can hide behind the most gentle countenance and these men were a bit off. Something smelled and I assure you it was not just my socks! As I was saying, bashing about we raced along the dark road directly into the moon which had arisen and as I am sure you all know most main roads are cut into the woods to take advantage of natural lunar light so as to find our way when the sun has gone. Periodically I was sure that I heard something marking swift passage alongside us but hidden from sight beyond the trees. I was never so glad in all my life to see the bridge which spans the river promising us safety if only we could cross it time. I don't know why my thoughts were so dark, but I felt sure that something didn't want us to be safely home within the castle grounds. As we clattered down the far side the iron wheels were sparking against the cobbles and with the moon we could see much about us. I felt my eyes pulled away from the sanctuary of the castle keep and noted what looked like glowing eyes in the woods. Sure now that some fool was playing a trick with farie lights I was more than angry for this nonsense had badly disturbed me. Then the lights began to flicker here and there as if they were the creatures' eyes and it was stalking us for dinner!"

Gasps erupted all around the table and I felt near to fainting upon hearing for the first time the events that had taken place while I hid under my covers like a frightened child. Slapping his open palm against the table he said, "Oh no; that was not the worst of it. I could not take my eyes away as I felt it draw near I heard this piercing cry…." and with that Nicholas threw back his head and howled a raged fueled shriek that sounded such a close albeit feeble imitation of the sounds I had heard weeks ago.

The same cries that Papa had said were the wolves singing the joy and fury of their hunt. Nicholas held my attention by hopping up and down on the bench, grinning maniacally and pointing to his eyes with a jabbing motion. The rest of the room understood for they had heard the story yesterday but I was lost in utter confusion.

I asked him breathlessly, "what did you see Nicholas?"

He glanced around then grabbed something with both hands that I could not see from my vantage point. I slowly stood grasping the table for support, biting my lip but far from what I expected he had placed two pewter spoons over his eyes and howled again. How very odd. Calmed somewhat I regained my composure and retook my seat.

Stefan waved Fritz to be silent, "Have a drink your throat has gone dry and you'll only rasp out the rest which is the best part…now I was in the back of the cart facing behind me. I know what I saw although I still wonder if it was not some fantasy concocted by my brain to explain that which had no explanation. I could hear something purring but it sounded as if the housecat had grown tenfold to cast a sound that loud. For otherwise I could not have taken notice of it over the pounding of my heart and the crashing of the cart; sure I was in the midst of some early brain fever I shook my head to clear my ears. Then I saw it."

Dear God, I was not the only person in the room holding my air in nervous muted terror of what he would say next but I had not long to wait.

He burst out, "It was the biggest damn thing I ever saw, pardon my language ladies; huge, black and with lamp lit silver eyes. It raced alongside the bridge and giving a tremendous growl nipped at the cobs flanks. Poor horse, she rolled her eyes white, screamed and fairly flew onto the grassy verge into the castle keep. Even more shocking the two gypsies running along at her head kept speed with her frantic pace. I know how big this wolf was for it was nearly the same size as the cob; its head reached the middle of her hindquarters and she stands fourteen hands! Careening along like that I began to fear I should be tossed out only to break my neck or provide a dinner for the massive beast but as soon as we were safe within the keep it shied off to the right and disappeared into the woods. We came round back and the remaining three gypsies kept swiveling their heads about. Nicholas of course was in the worst state of all for he had been astride and his legs had been trapped within the harness."

"We left the wagon where Cook later found it in the morning. Nicholas took the cob off to the stables and we two that remained stayed frozen in place with the three gypsies. Being a gentleman I could not consider sending them back to their camp after all this and offered them a place to sleep. The largest of the trio declined in an oddly polite fashion given all that happened and said they would be off to collect their cousin. However he suggested in the most vehement way that we should see ourselves inside before they left. Taking them at their word we escaped into the kitchen and straight off to bed. Naturally come morning I had thought this all some dream caused by a bit of whimsy and superstition and thought it all just a bit of grand adventure. However my curiosity was aroused when Fritz here said that poor Nicholas was in quite a state and would not come in for his morning meal. Thinking him a bit overwrought I went to Cook and kind hearted woman that she is I was given a small hamper to take out to the stables. There I found Nicholas rubbing salve into a small gash along the cobs flank!"

I found my hands balled into fists and with shoulders hunched I wondered if somehow I had brought this upon all these innocent people. Had my few chance encounters with Carmilla that should only have been with my future husband somehow damned me and all those whose lives I touched? Had my actions called this monster to us? Was I the viper in the bosom of my family? I squeezed my eyes shut and begged the Virgin Mary to hear me, save me. Save us all from this dark magic that had blighted our lives.

I again became aware of the holy water sloshing about and clutched the fob that lay near my heart. I begged her intervention and wished with all my soul she would heed my prayers. Then feeling light headed I stood and told Madame I wished to take some air before Father returned. Murmuring soothing nothings as I am sure my own mother would have done to ease my misery she waited for me to gather myself. I had begun to turn towards the inner door leading back to the hall when I felt a sharp cold pierce my heart. The shock was such that I gasped in momentary pain.

Taking a deep breath I again stepped towards the door- when the room went grey and it felt as if ice was dripping into my chest. Knowing that my stunted movements would surely cause alarm I paused and thankfully realized that I had not thanked Cook for my lunch. I crossed back over to her and gave her my appreciation for the meal and ensured her that I felt my strength returning after her excellent ministrations. It was then that I realized the pains had only happened when I decided to make for the upstairs rooms and see if Carmilla had awoken. It was not really a conscious decision only that I had thought to relate this amazing tale to her and see if she would care to walk with me within the keep until Papa returned. I had no one else to truly confide in but her.

Frozen in indecision I was aware that I was standing apart when I noticed young Nicholas boring his eyes into mine. He was obviously seeking my company and I walked quickly over to him.

I bent down in case he might attempt to speak with me and to reduce his discomfort after his earlier shockingly long discourse. However he gave me a look which at first I could not discern. Then standing up he stepped back a bit and proffered one hand while pointing to the outside door which stood open in the warm sunshine. "You would like me to accompany you somewhere young Nicholas?"

He bobbed his head once and smiled.

"Where shall we go? I must stay within the keep for Father has given me orders."

He scraped a boot against the floor and whickered. I smiled in understanding.

"Ah you wish me to follow you to the stables then. Right off we are; Madame shall come also."

The day felt like a warm comforting blanket, with just enough of a breeze to keep it from being overbearing. Nicholas turned his head back once to make sure we were following him. Madame and I strolled arm in arm pleased to be out of doors in the clear air after that most frightening story.

Madame clucked softly and smiling she leaned over, "More than likely my dear those young bucks had a sip of something they should not have had within the camp. Some strange brew that allowed them a momentary lapse of their good senses which given all the stories bantered about frankly I am not surprised."

I teased her back, "and yet Madame here we are both of us spooked out of our senses and wearing leather bags of holy water about our necks."

"Hmmm, yes there is that. These deaths, caused by an illness none of our good doctors can diagnose is most off putting. Then there is the death of that man in the woods. His throat ripped out by some animal! If those wolves exist I am quite sure it was one of them not some evil wind that killed him."

"But Madame would you not think the wolves would find the sheep or cattle far easier prey than a healthy man armed with an axe? I noted last week that father was going over the estate books and all the sheep had been accounted for; none were missing before the sheering last month. Plus I heard the wolves long before that. It is most confusing I agree. When I asked father about it again last week he said there were no reports of lost or missing livestock from the tenants. I commented on the oddity of wolves being nearby but only selecting deer and still there were no reports of which he had heard that indicated deer were being attacked. He then quoted something from Shakespeare which I have now forgotten. Ah well let us not talk further of nightmares with the sun shining on us. I need to dwell on pleasant things for now. "

We followed Nicholas into the cool shadowed stable and inhaled the sweet smell of hay and horseflesh. There is nothing in this world that smells as wonderful as a well kept stable. Father also chided me for an odd child when I would say that but it remains true to this day. Even all these years later I make a habit of visiting the stables that are mine now that Papa has left me to be with Mama.

Standing just inside the entrance I paused to let my eyes adjust to the dimmer light and noticed Nicholas had stopped stooped over making a humming sound. Standing up and turning he grinned and pointed at his feet.

There stood the large grey mouser although as rounded as he was I felt his moniker should be something else, he looked far too fat and sleepy to ever catch anything unless it fell upon his head and jerked him awake. Dancing around with muscles quivering in delight was his little white ratter. Nicholas patted his chest and the dog leaped up straight into his arms licking his face with evident delight. He was a terror of both mice and rats; he worked hard keeping the stables and kitchen rodent free.

As many treats as Cook slipped him he never looked as if he could be anything other than a lean little killer. Bearing the unlikely name of 'Snowball' I nonetheless adored this little dog. Calling him over I proffered the chunks of stew meat I had secreted away with me. Naturally I tossed 'Killer' a piece which he barely opened his eyes to glance at but he slunk out a paw and dragging it to his chest then began to bite off small chunks.

Nicholas continued his crooning as we followed him in further along the stalls. Equine heads of all sizes demanded his touch as we moved along. Enjoying the peace of the scenery I wondered still why Nicholas insisted on living in the small barn off set from the main stable. He had built himself a small room in one of the old stallion stalls and preferred it to a room in the castle. There his two pets and the massive Austrian charger resided in evident harmony. Father had insisted the footmen carry out a bed, small table, chair and trunk which he had placed in there. I caught a glimpse of it once and it appeared quite cozy. Nicholas was a man of many talents and he was as skilled with a pen as he was with the animals. The back wall of his snug home was covered with charcoal images that he had drawn. I assumed the faces were his lost family and the rest were the animals he cared for but I never asked as I worried it was too private a matter to broach.

We had arrived at the last stall and I saw calm brown eyes peer out at me. I knew this horse- it was the cob that pulled the cart and occasionally my small gig when I went tramping about the estate. The same poor creature Carmilla had whipped into a lather only weeks before. Nicholas dropped down the cross bar and entered her stall. Still singing that sweet song in words I did not understand he rubbed her neck and blew into her nose.

The cob had no name that I knew of but I heard Nicholas say, "Eva" and watched as the cob rubbed her head against his chest in obvious affection. I envied him his skill and resolved myself should I survive my wasting illness to learn more from him. Father had not thought horsemanship a necessary skill for me but that may have stemmed more from Mama's death astride her hunter all those years ago. I stretched out my hand to Eva and jumped back when she pinned her ears and snorted in alarm. Nicholas looked most upset and confused by her behavior.

"Tis alright; she does not see me more than a few times a year and does not know me."

Truth be told I was hurt; never before had she reacted to me like that. I wondered if she blamed me for the harsh treatment she had received at Carmilla's hand. Nicholas waited until Madame and I had stepped back and led her from her snug stall, turning her slightly he stood still and waited. I let my eyes wander over the cob until I noticed the tear in her flank. It was not much longer than my thumb nor was the wound deep but it was evidence that the story of the wolf attack was true

"Dear God- it was all true! You were attacked by this creature."

I would have continued but he began to shake his head with vigor. He cast his eyes about and then looking disgusted he shook his head again. Holding up one finger he winked at me.

Madame whispered, "There is something here we do not grasp but I feel we shall know all in a moment's time."

Placing Eva back into her stall Nicholas used the wooden pole to gain height and slipped onto the broad cobs back. He thrust his fingers into her mane and hunched down over her neck. I was still unclear of his meaning and he sighed in frustration. He began to shift back and forth as if he was riding her along at a canter. He peeled his eyes wide as if in fear and looked back over his shoulder. Turning his face to us he raised his eyebrows as if to see if I now understood.

I flapped my arms in frustration.

"You are riding Eva, bouncing along but what else should I be seeing?"

He grunted in frustration and repeated his movements only this time he raised his heels as if to kick the poor horse in the ribs.

"You wish for spurs?"

He flailed his arms about and blew out so hard the hair over his eyes tossed about his forehead. Shaking his head violently from side to side I felt myself an imbecile; it seemed my fatigue had also sapped my mind for I was having a sorry time of it making the simplest of thoughts stick.

He pointed his arm out and shoved his fore finger at me. Raising it to his forehead I blushed as I caught his meaning: watch, pay attention and think.

"Yes I understand; I have been gathering wool for weeks. Please try again and I shall follow."

I noticed Madame had also understood his message and had not cared for it in the least. Her arms were crossed and her lips were pursed the way they often were when I ignored my lessons.

Nicholas tried again but this time instead of miming spurs he raised his fisted hand and pretended to flash it down against the horses' hindquarters. Finally the bell in my mind sounded.

"You and Eva are riding fast, riding for your life perhaps?"

He bobbed his head up and down giving me a tooth filled grin. Then pointing to my head he smiled. Slipping down from the horse, he raised the barrier and left her in the little stall. Gesturing us to follow him we returned to the open door of the stable. Holding up one hand he bid us to wait upon him. Looking around I noticed his pets dozing just inside the door content in the warm sunshine. It was such a peaceful scene I could scarcely give credence to the horrors that seemed to surround us. He dashed off only to return with a small sack in his possession.

Bending down he began to empty its contents. I watched in fascination as he placed a horseshoe on the ground and pointed to the castle bridge. I shook my head to show him I was following but not fully understanding him. He nodded and pulled out a dead mouse that he laid inside the horseshoe, wrinkling my nose I waited for what might come next. He gently draped a metal star resting on a chain to the side then laid two silver coins next to it. I was now utterly confounded but persevered in trying to figure out what he wanted me to know. I glanced at Madame but she only shrugged her shoulders at me. It was clear she was no more on her way to understanding this odd montage than I was.

He stepped past us and scooped up the cat who sounded his annoyance at this rude interruption. Stroking the grey fur in apology he then placed the cat a few feet from his small mouse. The cat blinked once at the mouse but being dead it no longer held any interest for him and his eyes slowly closed. Nicholas pointed at himself then bending his legs and crouching he thrust out his arms in front of him, shifting his weight as if he was astride. He looked to ensure we were following this bizarre play. I nodded for him to continue. He looked back over his shoulder and rolled his eyes as if in terror of what he had seen. Again I nodded and this time he pointed to the cat and shuddered as if in mortal fear of the fat mouser. Well that may no sense at all but Madame stiffened and whispered to me.

"Recall the giant cat that some have sworn on the bible they have seen with their own eyes after dusk!"

Nicholas grimaced but nodded his head once. Then he pointed to himself and then with a trembling arm pointed at the cat.

"Dear God," Madame gasped, "You have seen it too?"

He wagged his head so fast it should have given him pains. Then once more into the story he pretended riding for his life but gave a whistle. With that his little dog raced to his side and stood just behind his heels. He pointed to the dog then reached down and grabbed the two coins. First he held them over his own eyes, and then with a deliberate motion he leaned over and placed them over the dogs. Looking gravely back at us his eyes searched ours to see if we understood.

I was beginning to have a glimmer of an idea but it was far too fantastic to be possible. I waited and blinked wondering if my entire life had become something out of the Brothers Grim tales but Nicholas could not bring himself to allow me the time process what he was telling me. He stood up and gave some kind of hand motion to the dog who then hopped onto his hind legs and danced around. Then he placed the coins on the dog's eyes and back to his own. Then pointing to the cat he growled as if he was a dog at which the cat gave him a baleful stare before returning to his natural state of ignoring us.

He pointed once more to the cat and shuddered, then he pointed at himself before holding up the coins and standing eerily still, then he pointed to the dog again holding the coins over the dogs face and began to shudder when suddenly he stopped and allowed wonder to mingle with fear on his face as he dangled the silver star over the dogs head.

At first the small bell began to ring in the back of mind but as I looked around at what Nicholas had done the tinkling shifted into a cacophony of cathedral bells. I felt my skin ripple across my shoulders and I clutched at Madame for support. My legs gave out and I sank to the ground. Hanging my head I heard myself chanting that it could not be true; this was the stuff of legend and fantasy. I lived in the modern world and these mythical terrors did not exist!

Madame's voice sounded far off as the clanging roared around my head. Gradually I felt myself return and my hearing came back; I could hear the horses shifting in their stalls and the purring of the cat. I felt a warm nose thrusting into my hand and I opened my eyes to see the terrier looking at me with worry. Petting him calmed us both. I assured Madame that I was quite myself but would prefer to remain sitting in the straw. Kind woman that she was I knew it was worry for me that she made no comment I might be staining my best morning dress.

Nicholas had his face screwed up with anxiety but I bid him to wait for a moment.

Summoning all my courage I said, "You have seen this giant cat?"

He nodded yes then pointed to the cat and directly at my old pony. I gasped for how on earth could any feline grow as large as a pony?

"Are you telling me it was that large?" I pointed towards the stall and said, "As big as old Chestnut, here?"

He nodded once.

Then he pointed to three items, himself, the dog and large dappled grey that was munching his hay behind us.

"The wolves are as large as a carriage horse?"

He nodded and clapped his hands. Dear God in heaven what was going on?

Giant cats and monstrous wolves are the stuff of fantasy and night terrors. What was next-birds the size of my bed?

This was all too much but Nicholas was not done. He grabbed a small wooden hoop and proceeded to dance around singing some happy tune and it was Madame who figured it out.

"Are you saying the gypsies are involved?"

Again he nodded. She stood furious, "I shall tell your father to round up the village elders to drive them out at once." She made to go but Nicholas grabbed her arm. She froze and shouted at him but he would not relent.

"Madame I think he is saying they are involved but not to bring us harm. What is it Nicholas?"

He stomped around in frustration but then his face cleared and he did the most amazing thing. He sang the story. The boy who could not speak without agonizing stuttering had the voice of an angel and when he sang his words rang clear and true with no hesitation. He closed his eyes, fisted his hands and sang his heart out. After I was in much shock from the information he had given us but also so overjoyed by the fact that even if he had to sing his words at least he would no longer be forced to remain silent. In gratitude for this miracle I hugged him as one would a family member then kissing him on the check I thanked him profusely.

His eyes glowed and giggling he gave a wonderful courtly bow to myself and Madame. I insisted he avail himself of a hot chocolate and sent him off to the kitchen to sing his way into Cooks good graces with a request for her to make one for us all.

Madame and I returned finding one of the house maids carrying the tray with our drinks. Thanking her I settled myself on the couch and sipped while trying to make sense of it all.

Madame the most sensible of women suggested we lock the door and rest here. She had grown distrustful of any door that remained unlocked unless she was fully awake and I realized this morning had exhausted us both. Once she settled back onto her favorite chair she promptly dropped into slumber. How I envied her that but even though my eyes felt heavy I feared sleep even during the day. I wandered over to the small reading desk and realized a note had been placed there addressed to me.

A messenger had arrived with a communication from Papa. He would be delayed over night and should return by dinner on the morrow. If the doctor should arrive during his absence he wanted Carmilla to see him. Realizing that I should be quite safe until his return I unlocked the door and rang the bell. When Anna one of the younger house maids arrived I advised her that Madame and I were far too tired to take to our beds and would take our ease here but the door would be locked while we rested. I assured her that we were sure to be awake by dinner and closed the door making sure it was securely locked.

Knocking on the heavy doors had roused us both and Madame had gathered her resolve. Turning to me as she reached for the lock she said, "Remember child. I will be with you."

I heard her exchange words with one of the maids and she returned to my side.

"The doctor has arrived and is upstairs tending to Carmilla. Why don't you clear your eyes and await us in the dining room as dinner will be served in a few minutes. Anna will remain within while I speak to Cook."

I continued to sit there and wonder what had my life come to that I required a guard to watch over me as I hid behind locked doors within my own home? I looked up as Madame returned with a basin of warm water and a cloth.

"Come my dear, we shall both wash our faces and feel better for it."

At dinner the doctor explained that Carmilla had refused to open her door and he would wait until the morrow as dusk was coming earlier and he was not confident of his safety should he drive alone after dark. This would also avail him of the opportunity in the morning to see if Carmilla was suffering from a malady. He was sure a good night's rest would see her to rights. Madame assured him that he was most welcome to spend the night and she was glad he had made himself available. Dinner was conducted with quiet conversation as the topic that weighed on our minds was not one any of us were willing to broach. The deaths in the village and surrounding areas had continued unabated and we all felt ourselves wary of encouraging death to take notice of our small party by chatting of it.

After the doctor had retired for the evening I sat with Madame in the library and told her of Carmilla's fainting spell in the church.

"Should I have told the doctor of this? For it was not the first time she has wavered and fallen weak in my presence."

Madame looked hard at me then said, "Yes, you should have. There is something very wrong with that girl."

She sighed and looked worried. "Laura tell me what happened the last time she exhibited this physical weakness."

I related all that had occurred during our last excursion; the whipping of the horse, the outburst in church and the two episodes she suffered before we returned home.

Madame listened and the color drained from her face.

"Why do you look so worried?" I asked, "Do you think perhaps she has contracted something contagious?"

I felt my stomach twist as I was well aware if Carmilla was ill and having similar symptoms to my own then I might well be in mortal danger.

Madame did not answer my questions but posed more of her own. I answered them to the best of my knowledge but she still appeared apprehensive.

After a long silent interlude she suggested we retire for the night as she had much to think on.

The morning dawned fine and clear. During breakfast the doctor said that a messenger had arrived with the news that another young woman had fallen ill and his services were needed. He had attempted to see Carmilla before he joined us in the dining room but she remained closeted within.

"My dear Madame, you may want to consider having the door forced if she is not eating. The time may come when she is simply too weak to open the door from inside."

Madame frowned and explained that as of yet she was unaware if the door lock had been fixed from the last time her door was forced. Mademoiselle piped up and suggested that perhaps Carmilla had placed a chair against the door to ensure her safety from shadow cat that roamed the hall. Madame stiffened and asked, "Whatever are you talking about?"

In a whispery tone she said, "I've not seen it myself but some of the maids swear that they have been awoken by a large shadowy cat passing through their rooms. Mayhap Carmilla heard these tales and keeps her door locked for fear the shadow cat will seek her out next."

Upon hearing her words I felt sick. Madame leaned closer and patted my hand.

"Laura," she said, "please go now, and await me in the kitchen. I must have a word with the good doctor before he departs."

Thirty minutes later, Madame, and I along with two footmen were racing along in the landau drawn by four fast horses.

Madame deflected my questions until we were far outside the estate boundaries. Staring straight ahead into the drivers back she finally responded, "We are to see the Jesuit."

I was utterly confounded. First we rush off like thieves in the night then I am given our destination only I cannot contemplate the reason to force our acquaintance on a religious hermit. After what seemed an endless drive along rutted roads we slipped onto a grassy track. The horses were slowed to a trot and Madame offered me only the smallest of rationales for her actions.

Clasping my hand to her she said, "Laura it is my belief that the Jesuit may have answers. Something evil walks the land and he has knowledge that may assist us."

This elderly cleric resided a day's walk beyond the ruined estate which locals now called Ravens' Wood for the never ending flock of black colored birds that had made it their domain. I learned from Madame that he maintained a solitary existence living near the picturesque grounds which used to belong to the former inhabitants of the old castle. As we passed through high grass which whispered along the underside of the carriage and twisted tree's that had gone without care for who knows how long I could glimpse through the green tinted light the stone remnants of the abandoned castle in the distance.

Unease of my surroundings kept me turning this way and that as I stared into the dense brush. I felt myself watched and steeled myself for I knew not what but nothing arrested our motion as the forest retreated around us. Breaking into a sunlight clearing I breathed a sigh of relief for just ahead was a well tended home and the smoking chimney indicated the Jesuit was within.

While I felt safe now that we had arrived my back still prickled with the notion that something remained; aware and deliberate as if taking my measure to determine if I should die this day. Shaking this off I attempted to assure myself that it was only the fears brought about by my illness and the stress of the past weeks.

As the carriage came to a stop I could see cleared fields behind the house with a barn and multi-colored goats dotting the vale. The driver made to jump down to assist us to the ground when Madame bade him wait. He raised his eyebrows but did as she asked and the four of us sat in the sun all at a loss except Madame.

She cast her eyes about then most rudely shouted, "Hello to the house and God bless all within."

The door opened and a small yappy bristled haired dog burst across the lawn leaping and twisting with joy. I laughed for I knew this dog. It belonged to the traveler, the hunchback that had been in the area peddling his charms. He must have been offering the Jesuit one of the bits and bobs that he carried for sale.

I made to jump down but Madame grabbed my arm stopping me. "No Laura, we wait until we are invited."

I was growing annoyed with all this nonsense and said, "Surely he knows we are here for I doubt it was the dog that opened the door."

"True but we wait."

I could sense a presence in the doorway but the sun did not penetrate the confines of the house leaving the figure in shadow. A raspy voice, with a low timbre asked if we were in need of aid.

Madame replied, "I seek the Jesuit named Alexander. I, rather that is, we; are in great need of his counsel."

He moved forward into the light and I saw a tall wire thin man with long white hair and a clean shaven face. Never before had I seen the hermit but for the oddest reason I had expected a short, squat dirty looking man not this lean austere gentleman. He glided down the stone steps and keeping pace behind him were two large grey dogs of a type I had never seen before. They stopped when he did; flanking him like royal guards and two spidery hands reached out and caressed the giant heads with evident pleasure.

In reply to my unvoiced question, he smiled gently and said, "The Corso, they are Italian mastiffs that are both fast and fearless. Two more watch over the goats and as you can see I now have Stella as well." He waved a hand indicating we should disembark from the carriage and said, "Please do not be afraid, the dogs will not hurt you."

He walked forward and sketched a blessing over us then rubbed the head of the lead horse closest to him. Speaking to the driver he said, "You will find cool clean water for the horses at the pump along side of the barn. Please do not unharness them but rather use the bucket as I do not believe you will linger here long."

Glancing off the wooded area he continued on, "You would be safest if you were well on the road before darkness and I sense that I have much to tell you so you will take lunch here."

I looked at Madame wondering what his words could mean. We had not spoken of the reason for our arrival and yet he seemed to know all. Madame was handed down but the priest stepped forward and offered his hand to me before the footman could. I smiled my thanks but could feel it slip from my face as his grip remained on my hand once I had alighted requiring no further assistance. Thinking he was awaiting a greeting I bobbed a curtsey and wished him a good day. Still his hand held mine while the other reached up and caressed my cheek with the back of his knuckles. Black eyes under grey brows bored into mine and I heard him suck in his breath.

Turning his head to Madame he commented, "You arrival is ill timed, this child is already gravely ill and welcoming her own death."

Madame let out a cry and rushed to my side. Facing the old man she begged for his aid. "You must help us! She is an innocent and does not deserve this dark fate."

His eyes did not leave from my face as he said, "I will assist you all that I can but you must be brave and willing to drive the evil from your home. That I cannot do for you as you have invited it in and made it welcome. The words of a humble priest cannot protect you but I can provide you with information that may illuminate the nature of the situation that has caused your affliction."

Now thoroughly confused I stood rooted to the spot. This man was laying the blame for my illness and that of poor Carmilla at our feet. How on earth had either of us made welcome evil? I failed to see the point or rationale for his outrageous statement but respecting his age and profession I made no comment.

Looking back at me he lowered his voice and leaned in, "Heed my words closely; you must open your eyes and close your heart. If not it will be your undoing."

We tramped up the stairs and followed him indoors. Again I was surprised for everywhere I looked the wood gleamed with care and polish. He made us an offer to sit once we were standing in what appeared to be the main room of the house. Looking about I thought that in a normal home this would be the main sitting room but instead of tables with oddities every surface was covered in books and manuscripts.

Madame and I sat while the Priest excused himself and bade us be comfortable for he would return shortly with soothing drinks. He came back momentarily and smiling at us said, "As you are aware I reside alone and I'm not accustomed to visitors of the fairer sex. However the clock stops for no one not even pretty ladies so shall we start?"

He looked pointedly at me but I found that I had no voice as I didn't know why we'd come in the first place. Turning in my seat I looked to Madame for direction and she said, "Father I do not know if you are aware of what has been going on in the district but many are dead and my dear Laura grows weaker every day with some unknown malady."

He held up a hand to stop her and looked again at me. "My dear, please tell me from the beginning. Leave nothing out."

I felt myself start for surely he could not mean anything with regards to my illicit activities with Carmilla? Surely that could have no consequences with regards to the strange deaths. Feeling my face grow hot I spent an hour telling the priest everything but the most intimate of details that I could not bear to describe. I told him of the strange dreams that left me shaken. Finding myself in places when I awoke only to have no memory of how I got there; the odd exhaustion and languor that sapped my strength, for which I could not account. The marks the doctor had found on my chest that would not heal.

He listened intensely and once I had concluded my story leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. I looked at Madame but she only shrugged her shoulders and we sat in silence. It was most uncomfortable and I was aware of the sun highlighting the dust motes that drifted through the air.

The silence seemed to drag on and I found myself growing sleepy. My eyes grew heavy and I longed for my bed. A soft noise arrested my attention; the priest abruptly stood and said, "The kettle sings. I shall make us some tea and then I need to retrieve some documents. Madame if your men should care for a drink, please inform them I shall place a setting on the porch where they can take their ease."

I was left alone but for the dogs and dismayed that anything could be done. In agitation I figured the leather fob that rested warmly against my chest. I could feel the gentle sloshing of the holy water within and sent up a silent pray to the Saints that it would keep me safe. A few moments later the priest shuffled in with a heavy tray and smiling at me gently he said, "Now my child, if you would be so kind I would like you to pour while I fetch our lunch."

He retreated once again and I was reaching for the tea pot when Madame entered. Looking about she asked where the trader had gone. "It's not like him to fail to greet me if he knows I am about; he often brings me the most wonderful fabrics! Last year he sold me the loveliest bit of silk but it's most odd for his cart and donkey are in the barn. I hope he is well."

The priest heard Madame as he stepped back into the room, "No Madame I am afraid he is now with God."

Madame sucked in her breath. "How?"

With a grave expression he said, "I fear the same blight that has murdered so many others."

"Murder?" I choked out. "Why on earth would anyone kill him and what other murders are you referring to? I've not heard of any deaths that cannot be blamed on animal attacks or illness."

"Then you have not been paying attention."

I felt the rebuke but was sure he was wrong. There had deaths of that I was aware but murder?

"You look surprised but I speak the truth. None of these deaths were natural nor were they caused by animals of any sort. Tis the work of the Civatateo an ancient evil brought here by the Spaniards."

I glanced at Madame but she appeared as nonplussed by the Jesuits words as I was. He placed the second tray on a low table before me and said, "Please before I go on allow me to offer you a simple repast."

Madame made me a plate with chicken, cheese and warm bread. Suddenly I found myself ravenous. Taking it from her I forgot my manners and started eating. After a few bites I realized my shameful error and with a swallow I gave a grin. "I'm terribly sorry that was rude I had not realized how my illness had shrunk my appetite. Please forgive me."

"No it gives me hope that you will survive this pestilence. I pray you continue; please eat until you are sated."

Madame tucked in and complemented the priest on the fine quality of the cheese and bread. He smiled in muted pride and said, "My thanks, I make them both here and find that I have always enough to share. My physical wants are small but my intellectual are without bounds and so I trade for what I need."

A flash of sadness crossed his face and he reached down to pet Stella. "Many years has the trader been a friend to all including me. His ways may have appeared rough to cultured eyes but his heart was kind and without malice. During his last visit he had procured a painting that I had been searching for and I worry that it was this item that brought him to the attention of the Civatateo. The gypsies found him not one league from here. It appears after he left his cart with me to rest his donkey and walk about the nearby farms he was attacked. I was told that Stella was valiantly guarding his body and would not yield until…well that no longer matters. It is done and he is dead. Nothing will alter that."

Madame looked quite pale at this news for she had been fond of the trader and I was horrified that such a silly, sweet and harmless man had come to such a horrid end.

I found my desire for food had vanished and sat with trembling hands fearful that I would come to the same violent end. Finding my voice I broached a question, "Have the gypsies also been attacked? I have seen a grey eyed man in gypsy garb in the woods on the day Carmilla and I went alone to town. He seemed to be watching us but I felt no fear from his presence. It was if he knew me and, well I am not sure how to describe the encounter other than it was most strange."

The Jesuit smiled at some inner knowledge and said, "No they will not be attacked for the Civatateo fears them beyond all others. Some would say they are cursed but in truth it is a mixed blessing from God. They roam the countryside always together and yet apart from the rest of us. There is a legend of how the gypsies came to be and why they were cursed. According to my research and the ancient lore I have heard from the gypsies themselves they exist in a number of different tribes yet each of those that wander have a particular skill that protects them from the Civatateo and other creatures of darkness. Some are with medicines and weapons while others are, ah, how shall I put this? Some have the ability to tap into a power that God has bestowed upon them to keep the demons in check."

He glanced out the window and I saw him give the slightest bob of his head as if acknowledging someone beyond my sight. "You see the gypsies are from the misty mountains of India and they have wandered the earth since before the rise of the Roman Empire."

Shaking his head, he continued, "They have been here longer than any other civilization. They walked the earth prior to the rise of ancient Greece even before the invention of writing they have existed and in many cases gone down into myth and legend. They have done their best to protect the human race. Always with us and yet never truly settling in any one place they remain outcasts not welcome by any society. There are many stories of why they were cursed or blessed depending upon how one views it but the core of the myth is that one man challenged God for allowing the Devils minions to walk the earth while God stood by and watched them wreak havoc unchallenged. He screamed defiance and shouted shame to the heavens demanding God protect all of his people. Telling God that it was a violation of the balance of life; allowing evil to spread without a counterbalance to keep it in check. The final blow was the declaration that Gods failure to act in any fashion could only mean that God not only allowed evil but welcomed it."

I glanced at Madame with wide eyes and wondered how any of this information was meant to help us but I refrained from comment as the priest sipped his tea then continued on.

"God heard him and answered him but as with most prayers or demands not always in the way we would wish or even expect. He cast down cold blue white lightening which struck the man rendering him unconscious for days. He lay on the rocks surrounded by mist and time unaware that he had been changed forever more. When he returned to the caravan his family was shocked for his hair had turned silver and his eyes a stormy grey as if the color had been leached from his body."

The priest cut his eyes and stared hard at us and said, "You will see his descendents in many of the gypsy tribes that now walk throughout the world. They are few in number, these grey eyed men but they protect us as best they can and are always on the move seeking the demons that would pollute humanity."

I was by now utterly confused. I had nightmares of that there was no doubt but I could not ascribe to them demon origin nor could I believe I had been infected by a creature of the Devil. I had walked unchallenged into church had I not? If I carried some noxious taint from the sulfurous realms of hell wouldn't something have happened to drive me from the building?

Then I remembered the candle. It would not stay lit and gave off an evil odor. Sweet Jesus! Was that due to my presence in a sanctified space? I felt myself grow cold with fear.

The priest stood and said, "The hour grows late and I have much to tell you but first I need to ascertain if you yourself have come into contact with the Civatateo. I have a painting to show you. Please remain seated and I shall return momentarily."

He floated soundlessly from the room and I turned to Madame, "Dearest lady what shall we do? What if I am infected? I have never been so frightened in my life. Here we sit in broad day light speaking of the devil and evil creatures that walk amongst us unseen." Clutching the leather fob, I whispered, "What if God has forsaken me? What hope have I of surviving if heaven has called me foul and left me alone?"

She shushed me, "Laura, God has not abandoned you. He brought us here and in my heart I know that we will find the answers to save us all from this blight."

"How can you know it was God that put us on this path?" I shuddered to think of what we would find if we had been manipulated by another with ill intent.

"I dreamt last night and while it frightened me silly I heeded the words of the angel that spoke. It was not anything like other dreams that I can recall. I saw stars, little flashing balls of light flicker throughout the room. Then as I gazed in wonder they shifted and whirled forming a shape that seemed human. Yet I could not see a face but just bits of color that shimmered and moved. I recall I was frozen in shock and disbelief until a voice drifted across and said, 'Fear not, but heed my words. Seek out the Jesuit anon; save my daughter and you will save all."

I gasped and bit my lip. My mother? Madame had been visited by a ghost? Holding her hand I said, "Are you sure it was nothing more than a dream brought on by all the events of weeks past? I have missed her desperately this past years but never do I recollect a dream of her; not once."

"Dear heart, it was more than a dream for as the lights faded out my nostrils were assailed by the scent of roses and lilac. Still when I woke with the dawn I was sure it had been nothing more than the wanderings of my mind seeking an answer as I slept."

Looking about to be sure we were still alone she whispered, "I stepped down from my bed and was shocked. I remember that I stayed frozen and feared to look down."

"But why?"

"Under my feet and scattered across the floor were rose petals and bits of lilac. It was no dream. Nor can I place the blame on some mischievous maid for the lilacs have been out of bloom for weeks."

I was atremble with the wonder of it all however I had no time to ponder the significance of Madame's visitation for the priest returned carrying a medium sized flat package wrapped in white cloth.

Placing the item next to him he sat down again facing us across the table.

"Have either of you ladies ever heard of the renaissance painter Palma Giovane?"

We both shook our heads as the name was not familiar to either of us.

"No matter; it's not important that you know his name or works. He was a popular Venetian artist who created this portrait in 1592. The other piece I will show you was painted in 1555 by an unknown artist of the Spanish royal court. The earlier one depicts the Count Montoya and his wife, the other her alone. I am going to remove their wrappings and wish for you to look and see if either of the faces are at all familiar to you."

I could feel my heart banging about in my chest because I just knew that the face I would see would be that of Carmilla. After all I had just seen another portrait from the same time period which was an exact replica of her and had assumed it was nothing more than hereditary traits arising in her after long generations had passed.

"Now the history of this family is a bit convoluted however Count Montoya fathered no children with his wife that survived their childhood save one; a girl who died shortly after her marriage to a Hungarian Count in 1558. According to legend she fell in love with another upon her arrival for her wedding. Some say it was the brother of her intended groom. Her future husband was a brutal man and the poor girl was already suffering from some unknown malady which appeared to weaken her mind. One night she snuck away to be with her lover only to be found by the castle guards. The Count instead of casting her out for her adulterous behavior married her within a fortnight and made each day of her existence a tortuous one from which she had no hope of escape. It is said that her ladies maid found her on the rocks below the castle room window in which she was imprisoned. Apparently the poor girl had taken leave of her senses from the brutal nightly assaults her husband visited upon her and in act of madness leaped from the window to end her suffering."

He sighed with regret for the long dead girl and said, "As you know the act of self-murder precludes a burial in sanctified grounds. The husband in a fit of rage had her body cast into the river and ordered her name stricken from all documents and her effects were burned in the courtyard the very same day.

Her ladies maid disappeared with her portrait and was never seen again. The dead girl's mother, the Countess Montoya arrived months later to visit her daughter as the Count had neglected to inform her that her daughter was dead. She was enraged beyond all sense and reason and soon followed her daughter in death. It is not known if the Count murdered her or if she took her own life in her a fit of grief. Later the painting of the dead girl turned up in the private chamber of the Count's younger brother. It was said the painting of the dead Countess led to the civil war that tore the region apart. Still much of this cannot be proven as many of the documents relating to the Montoya women have disappeared."

He began to unwrap the paintings as he continued with his story; "Now Montoya was from an illustrious family and he was a cousin to Isabella; the same Spanish Queen that funded many of the expeditions to New Spain in search of gold and treasure. His great-uncle was Hernán Cortéz de Monroy y Pizzaro; the Vice Royalty of New Spain. Although Pizzaro was an old man he fathered a daughter in the territory of Mexico in 1525. Her name was Catalina and she was a great beauty much like her mother. In 1538 Pizzaro was ordered back to Spain by the Queen for she was not pleased with his failed attempts to stamp out native rebellion. In 1540 Pizzaro was making ready to return to the territories only he fell ill and the physicians could not save him. He dispatched a letter on the next ship ordering that his daughter and wife were to return to Spain where they could be cared for and take their place within the landed gentry. He lingered for months but sadly died only weeks before his family arrived."

I listened as he wove the story but still could not understand the point of all this. I was later to find myself so very wrong for all this was to be the root of my illness.

"In 1541 the ship on which Catalina had sailed safely arrived in the harbor. She was anchored off shore until a docking space could be found so runner ships were sent with fresh food stuffs and manifests that could checked against the cargo prior to docking. Within hours word spread that over half the crew had succumbed to some plague-like illness which sapped their energy then swiftly killed them. The ship was ordered detained for thirty days until it could be determined if the remaining crew and their passengers were infected. No other deaths were reported so the ship was brought in. The lovely Catalina was taken to her father's estate where she was much feted by her relatives for her beauty as none had ever seen her before. Sadly her mother had died before leaving Mexico and Catalina was the recipient of much sympathy at the sudden loss of both parents. Since she was but sixteen years of age she was sent to the royal court as a ward. It was believed since she had no formal training as a courtier it would improve her prospects for a husband. The consensus was that while she was a lovely girl she was far darker than was the fashion and would need all the help she could get. She was given to Isabella's daughter the Princess Joanna for training."

"Here the story grows dark. Joanna had married Phillip the Fair and began producing a number of healthy children. Spain was united under their rule and much was made of the love match between the new King and Queen when she ascended the throne in Castille. Yet Phillip began to cast his eye towards others including the lovely, sloe-eyed Catalina. Joanna grew more distraught at her husband's affairs and her emotional state suffered greatly. She grew weak and suffered fits in which she would attack women she believed to have been intimate with her husband. One night she tore after Catalina for she had found one of her Aztec charms in the bed the Queen and Phillip shared. Enraged beyond all reason she threw Catalina out and told her to seek her fortune with another's husband. Two days later Phillip grew ill and died at the age of 28. The Queen already subject to melancholy and fits of illness now became convinced that Catalina was the cause of all her suffering. She sent out informants, guards and spies to find her but all was for naught. Yet nearly a year later as her children began to die of the same illness as their father word came that two paintings had been found of Catalina. Both were done when she was fourteen years of age; however one showed her with her favorite companion, a local girl whose mother worked as a cook in the household; Catalina had befriended the child and made her a favorite within the family compound. The items of the Pizzaro family which included the paintings had arrived by ship the year before and were packed off to the family estate. No one had even bothered to open the crates as it was assumed Catalina would only pack them up again once a husband had been arranged for her. The evidence of treachery and murder had been there all along but without anyone knowing what it meant. Now I must ask a question of you both; have either of you ever heard the name Palmira before?"

I shook my head no in reply but Madame rocked back and grew so pale I feared she might faint. "Madame whatever is wrong? Do you require air?" I clasped her hand and she looked first at me with anguish then locked eyes with the Jesuit. "I have, on the night Carmilla arrived."

She took a deep breath and looked pained, "The girl was lying nearly senseless on the ground. The carriage had departed and she cried out for her mother and Palmira. I assumed it was a relative or servant that she missed. However I do recall later that night Mademoiselle and I were commenting on the strange woman that had remained within the carriage even as it lay on its side. We thought her most peculiar."

The Jesuit looked most distressed then a steely resolve hardened his face. He looked to me and said "You have been put upon in the most vile of ways. Your family's good nature has been abused and this was the opening ploy of the demon."

"This Palmira is the Civatateo; an evil creature that seeks entrance through lies, deception and false friendship. It brings nothing but discord, misery and death. Nothing thrills this creature more than to see families torn asunder as she reaps benefits to which she has no earthly right. She killed Catalina and her mother before taking her place on the ship for Spain knowing that she could travel undetected since none of Pizzaro's family had ever seen poor Catalina. I have found in my research that she beguiled a wealthy merchant's son after fleeing on the young King Phillip's death. She convinced him she was with child and he married her straight away. Shortly after his entire family was dead and she was gone with the family fortune. Later she turns up as a companion for the daughter of the Count Montoya preying upon his belief that she was his great-niece but stating she prefers the name Palmira as it was the one her mother wanted to give her instead of Catalina. Within months of her arrival both mother and daughter became sickly but nothing could be found as the source of their complaints. Montoya was unaware that he had invited a poisonous serpent into his household; one that would destroy all he held dear, for only one year after his wife's death he died. His body was found in his private chapel as he prayed for his lost family. Yet he makes mention in his journals of this Palmira whom he originally came to know as Catalina but he failed to make the connection that this girl was an imposter."

He asked us to close our eyes, "I wish to have your first impression upon seeing these portraits side by side. It will allow me determine if what I believe is true to be happening here."

Madame and I clasped hands in mutual need of comfort. I cannot speak for her but I was terrified beyond belief. This monster Palmira must be centuries old for it was not a common name; frankly unheard of and yet it was mentioned many times over the years and always with dread.

"Ladies if you would be so kind as to open your eyes and tell me what you see."

Both Madame and I were rendered speechless. I had somehow or other expected to see pictures of Carmilla but instead it was her mother. I spun my head and looked at Madame but she was still and open mouthed staring silently even as her chest heaved with tension.

She raised a shaking hand and pointed; "The man I do not know but that is the woman that begged my Lord to allow his daughter to stay until she could return for her. Although I do recall that it was made to seem as if we were pressuring her to give us the grace of her daughter's company during her absence. Much was made of the child's illness from the long trip and further travel might injury her greatly. My Lord offered her sanctuary and safe conduct as long as she remained."

I gazed long and hard at both portraits. In the first one the lady looked content and was gazing at her husband in full royal dress. Both looked happy and at peace with their lives. Each sported black hair and the whitest of skin which is common to the Spanish aristocracy. His eyes were a cornflower blue while his wife had warm amber eyes that seemed to glow with love. The second showed her alone seated by a fire and she looked fierce. Her eyes burned out from the canvas like a Queen issuing a challenge to the viewer. That was the first thought that popped into my mind. Then I realized that there was a forty plus year time gap between the first painting and the second but she appeared not to have aged at all. It was if the clock had stopped for her never to move again.

We sat there in the dappled sunlight streaming through the windows yet I had never before felt so cold. It seemed as if the chill had penetrated my bones and I would never feel warm again.


	9. Chapter 9

The priest stood and said, "That is all I can tell you beyond this. The Civatateo is ancient. The legends say that it comes from the Aztecs; a female succubus that stalks the young but is especially fond of the fairer sex. It creeps with ill intent through the night sneaking into bedrooms to drain the victim of its blood leaving nothing but a corpse. In some cases the victim is unlucky enough to linger for days racked with fever, chills and noxious dreams before death. However in rare cases the victim inspires a feeling in the creature which appears at first glance to be devotion. It will endeavor to bring about a slow death that will eventually cause the victim to turn in her grave only to rise as a vampire. That is what the Civatateo is; a vampire that has used our trade ships to escape the Mexican countryside and infect our people with unholy death. It is my belief that both you and your Carmilla have been infected by this creature."

"Father if that is true how do we stop it?"

"It can be killed but the method is horrific and best left to men with strong stomachs. Once it is dispatched back to Hell you will be well. It may take some time before you feel returned to your normal state but if the creature is allowed to live it will consume you."

Madame looked frightened beyond measure, "How are we to even find this thing? It left months ago with the lady Countess."

"If I am right it is not just Palmira that must be dispatched but also the Countess and Carmilla. If Carmilla really is her daughter born of her natural body centuries ago then she is already forsaken. However there is always the possibility that Carmilla is nothing more than some foundling she took in; perhaps in a deluded attempt to recall the years when her daughter was alive. For the name of the Montoya girl was not Carmilla. It was something else but as of yet I cannot locate her birth name in my manuscripts. However what is important is to remember that the Count whom abused his wife so horribly was a Karnstein. Before she was but briefly the Countess of Karnstein she was the daughter of Countess Montoya."

I was staggered by his revelations. Carmilla was not the monster here but she was ill and my dreams of her with blood tracking down her face were a warning that we were both at risk of become a Civatateo; a vampire that would destroy everything it touched. He walked us to the door and begged us wait while he had the carriage brought round. "You will be safe if you make haste. Fear not for you will have company that will protect you if even you cannot see them."

With that odd comment he departed to the barn. A few moments later he walked back behind the carriage. He handed Madame and me into our seats telling the footman and driver not to yield the road for any reason.

I leaned down thanking him most kindly for his assistance then asked, "How can these creatures be tracked to their lair?"

"The vampire must return each day to the coffin which was so briefly its home. It is drawn there like a moth to flame and cannot refuse to heed the call of death. Although unlike the rest of us that have been laid to rest in our tombs it will fly out instead of remaining after it has rested. It is forever bound to its earthly form; the gates of heaven remain closed to it as long as it reanimates itself. Victims of the Civatateo that have transformed can only seek the Kingdom of God once they are rendered a final death and released from their mortal remains."

On that disturbing note the horses were harried into a fast canter. Madame and I sat without speaking overwrought as we were by all the information imparted to us on that bright day.

Chapter 16

The Sacrifice

Papa had returned after dinner and I heard him in the hallway speaking to Cook. He sounded exhausted as I heard him ask if a plate could be made for his meal and sent along to the library. He stepped within and stopped as emotions chased across his face. Happiness at seeing me, fear that I still looked ill and confusion at the drooling companion which lolled at my feet.

"Well now Laura whatever have you gotten yourself up to today? I assume that creature is a dog rather than the monster he looks."

Giving me a weak smile he came to me and leaned in for a welcoming kiss. The dog raised its massive head but did nothing more than sniff Fathers shoes albeit leaving a small wet spot on one leather clad foot.

I chattered at him in happiness but made no mention of the trip that morning to the Jesuits home and I noticed Madame did not seem comfortable with broaching the subject. He looked about and asked if Carmilla was well. I explained that she had remained in her room refusing to see me or join us for dinner.

I could tell since he was eyeing the dog I should be truthful about my new pet. I attempted a light tone and explained, "Papa I had heard of these wonderful animals and found it is Thomas' uncle that raises them. He is sure that whatever phantom is plaguing me will be driven off by the dog. I have found him in just these few short hours to be a welcome presence which greatly eases my mind."

Father sighed but it was one that lacked relief. "It has the largest head I've ever seen but if you are right then he is most welcome. I can live with a few sneezes on your behalf."

I can freely admit that when Madame and I had crossed the stone bridge this afternoon upon our return seeing Thomas had caused my heart to flutter and my cheeks to heat with color. He was dismounting behind another horse and cart that I did not recognize as one of our own. I watched as he heard the sound of our carriage wheels and raised his head to great us.

I was thrilled to see him but rather confused for I did not see the promised dog. I skipped down and as the landau clattered off to settle the horses and I had raced to Thomas in a most undignified fashion. Without thought for appearances I threw my arms around him and kissed him on the cheek; in what I hoped was friendship. He gave off a merry laugh and said, "If that was all it took I'd have gotten the dog much sooner."

"But where is it? You left on one horse and return with yet another that I am sure does not come from our stables."

"He's a bit tired. I borrowed the equipage since there was no way I could carry him astride and he could not keep up with the pace I would set."

He gently patted the sweating horse he had left on and handed him over to Nicholas for care.

"He deserves a medal my lad. He ran for three days without a break but never a complaint. See him pastured for a week to rest. He has a great heart to have gone so far without faltering."

He turned to the small cart still harnessed to the equally exhausted trotter. "Let me get him down and then this poor beast can be given his food and rest. My uncle will come in a week's time to retrieve his horse and cart."

I stood back as he dropped the small wooden gate and saw a pair of deep yellow eyes blinking back at me from the straw. Then he stood shaking broken bits of yellow from his deep red coat. "Dear God, he's huge!"

"Well I could have gotten one of the few remaining puppies but this one was nearly full grown and Henry had been keeping him as a gift for me. He's already gone through all his training and I would like nothing more than for him to be my gift to you."

"Thomas I cannot express my thanks enough. I feel better already. You are returned safe and with this dog to shadow me I shall be much relieved."

That night I slept soundless and deep; dreams did not come to terrorize me nor did visions slip through the cracks to torment my sleep. In the morning I awoke and for the first time in weeks felt refreshed rather than exhausted. Casting my eyes about I saw standing at the balcony doors with his hackles raised. I would have to think of an appropriate name for him today. Slipping out of bed I walked to him and rested my hand on his wrinkled head.

"Do you see something?"

He gave a whine and looked up at me then dropped his stare back into the forest. A low angry rumble caused his flews to shake and then he barked causing me to jump in place. Whatever had been distressing him must have fled for he sat and leaned his head against my hip.

"Right, if you are to be my guardian angel I shall call you Gabriel. Tis a fitting name for such a dog and I think it fits. What say you?"

He gave no answer and padded to the entry door. We trooped down to the side door and he went out to relieve himself but I noted he stayed within my view at all times.

At breakfast he enjoyed a large bowl that Cook had made for him then he shifted to sit by my chair. As I was sipping me tea I could feel the heat from his head seeping into my feet as he laid it across my slipper under the table. Papa looked up from some papers he had been reading and said he must leave once more.

"But Papa you've only just returned."

He apologized but said it was upon business that needed his immediate attention which was calling him away yet again and he desired my company this time. He must see the estate foreman and he had business in town. It would take us right past the old Ravenswood Estate on the way home. He suggested that as Carmilla had never seen ruined castle, she could follow, when she came down, with Mademoiselle, who would bring materials for what you call a picnic, which might be laid for us in the shattered keep. We could all enjoy a feast out of doors after he had concluded his business. I enjoined him to allow me the company of Thomas and my dog.

He raised his eyebrows but nodded his head yet not before adding, "See to it that something is packed for the brute that he doesn't eat our luncheon before we do."

At twelve o'clock, accordingly, I was ready and not long after, my father, Madame and I set out upon our projected drive. Thomas held the reins and quietly sat with my father on the driver's bench. Madame and I were a bit squished as Gabriel insisted on sitting next to me rather than lying on the carriage floor. Passing the drawbridge we turned to the right, and followed the road over the steep Gothic bridge, westward, to reach the deserted village and ruined castle of Karnstein which for years had been known as Raven's Wood for the flocks of birds that had come to call it home.

No sylvan drive can be fancied prettier. The ground breaks into gentle hills and hollows all clothed with beautiful wood, totally destitute of the comparative formality which artificial planting and early culture and pruning impart. The irregularities of the ground often lead the road out of its course, and cause it to wind beautifully round the sides of broken hollows and the steeper sides of the hills, among varieties of ground almost inexhaustible.

Turning one of these points, we suddenly encountered our old friend, the General, riding towards us, attended by a mounted servant. His portmanteaus were following in a hired wagon, such as we term a cart. The General dismounted as we pulled up, and, after the usual greetings, was easily persuaded to accept the vacant seat in the carriage and send his horse on with his servant to the castle. I admit I began to wonder why Papa had not mentioned he intended to lunch at the ruins before his business as his words had alluded to a pressing engagement that would be dealt with prior to our meal but I kept my thoughts to myself. I faced the General as he sat across from us and was saddened to see he looked much worse.

It was about ten months since we had last seen him: but that time had sufficed to make an alteration of years in his appearance. He had grown thinner; something of gloom and anxiety had taken the place of that cordial serenity which used to characterize his features. His dark blue eyes, always penetrating, now gleamed with a sterner light from under his shaggy grey eyebrows. It was not such a change as grief alone usually induces, and angrier passions seemed to have had their share in bringing it about.

We had not long resumed our drive, when the General began to talk, with his usual soldierly directness, of the bereavement, as he termed it, which he had sustained in the death of his beloved niece and ward; and he then broke out in a tone of intense bitterness and fury, inveighing against the "hellish arts" to which she had fallen a victim, and expressing, with more exasperation than piety, his wonder that Heaven should tolerate so monstrous an indulgence of the lusts and malignity of hell.

My father, who saw at once that something very extraordinary had befallen, asked him, if not too painful to him, to detail the circumstances which he thought justified the strong terms in which he expressed himself. He twisted himself about in the driver's seat so that he might attend the General's words.

"I should tell you all with pleasure," said the General, "but you would not believe me rather you would think me mad."

"Why should I not?" he asked.

"Because," he answered testily, "you believe in nothing but what consists with your own prejudices and illusions. I remember when I was like you, but I have learned better."

"Try me," said my father; "I am not such a dogmatist as you suppose. Besides which, I very well know that you generally require proof for what you believe, and am, therefore, very strongly predisposed to respect your conclusions."

"You are right in supposing that I have not been led lightly into a belief in the marvelous—for what I have experienced is marvelous—and I have been forced by extraordinary evidence to credit that which ran counter, diametrically, to all my theories. I have been made the dupe of a preternatural conspiracy."

Notwithstanding his professions of confidence in the General's penetration, I saw my father, at this point, glance at the General, with, as I thought, a marked suspicion of his sanity.

The General did not see it, luckily. He was looking gloomily and curiously into the glades and vistas of the woods that were opening before us. "You are going to the Ruins of Karnstein?" he said.

"Yes, it is a lucky coincidence; do you know I was going to ask you to bring me there to inspect them. I have a special object in exploring. There is a ruined chapel, isn't there, with a great many tombs of that extinct family?"

"So there are—highly interesting," said my father. "I hope you are thinking of claiming the title and estates?"

My father said this gaily, but I heard his tone and it rang false to my ears. The General did not notice nor recollect the laugh, or even the smile, which courtesy exacts for a friend's joke; on the contrary, he looked grave and even fierce, ruminating on a matter that stirred his anger and horror.

"Something very different," he said, gruffly. "I mean to unearth some of those fine people. I hope, by God's blessing, to accomplish a pious sacrilege here, which will relieve our earth of certain monsters, and enable honest people to sleep in their beds without being assailed by murderers. I have strange things to tell you, my dear friend, such as I myself would have scouted as incredible a few months since."

My father looked at him again, but this time not with a glance of suspicion— with an eye, rather, of keen intelligence and alarm.

"The house of Karnstein," he said, "has been long extinct: two hundred years at least. My dear wife was maternally descended from the Karnsteins. But the name and title have long ceased to exist. The castle is a ruin; the very village is deserted; it is fifty years since the smoke of a chimney was seen there; not a roof left."

He nodded his head. "Yes that's quite true. I have heard a great deal about that since I last saw you; a great deal that will astonish you. But I had better relate everything in the order in which it occurred," said the General.

"You saw my dear ward—my child, I may call her. No creature could have been more beautiful, and only three months ago none more blooming."

"Yes, poor thing! When I saw her last she certainly was quite lovely," said my father. "I was grieved and shocked more than I can tell you, my dear friend; I knew what a blow it was to you."

He took the General's hand, and they exchanged a kind pressure. Tears gathered in the old soldier's eyes. He did not seek to conceal them.

He said: "We have been very old friends; I knew you would feel for me, childless as I am. She had become an object of very near interest to me, and repaid my care by an affection that cheered my home and made my life happy. That is all gone. The years that remain to me on earth may not be very long; but by God's mercy I hope to accomplish a service to mankind before I die, and to serve the vengeance of Heaven upon the fiends who have murdered my poor child in the spring of her hopes and beauty!"

"You said, just now, that you intended relating everything as it occurred," said my father. 'Pray do; I assure you that it is not mere curiosity that prompts me."

By this time we had reached the point at which the Drunstall road, by which the General had come, diverges from the road which we were traveling to Karnstein.

"How far is it to the ruins?" inquired the General, looking anxiously forward.

"About half a league," answered my father. 'Pray let us hear the story you were so good as to promise."

"With all my heart," said the General, with an effort; and after a short pause in which to arrange his subject, he commenced one of the strangest narratives I ever heard.

"My dear friend I was looking forward with great pleasure to the visit you had been so good as to arrange for her to your charming daughter."

Here he made me a gallant but melancholy bow to me and I bobbed my head in return.

"In the meantime we had an invitation to my old friend the Count Carlsfeld, whose estate is about six leagues to the other side of Karnstein. It was to attend the series of fetes which, you remember, were given by him in honor of his illustrious visitor, the Grand Duke Charles."

"Yes; and very splendid, I believe, they were," said my father.

"Princely! But then his hospitalities are quite regal. He has Aladdin's lamp. The night from which my sorrow dates was devoted to a magnificent masquerade. The grounds were thrown open, the trees hung with colored lamps. There was such a display of fireworks as Paris itself had never witnessed. And such music—music, you know, is my weakness— such ravishing music! The finest instrumental band, perhaps, in the world, and the finest singers who could be collected from all the great operas in Europe. As you wandered through these fantastically illuminated grounds, the moon-lighted chateau throwing a rosy light from its long rows of windows, you would suddenly hear these ravishing voices stealing from the silence of some grove, or rising from boats upon the lake. I felt myself, as I looked and listened, carried back into the romance and poetry of my early youth."

"When the fireworks were ended, and the ball beginning, we returned to the noble suite of rooms that were thrown open to the dancers. A masked ball, you know, is a beautiful sight; but so brilliant a spectacle of the kind I never saw before."

"It was a very aristocratic assembly. I was myself almost the only 'nobody' present" he said with a bemused chuckle. Then his face resumed its tortured expression.

"My dear child was looking quite beautiful. She wore no mask. Her excitement and delight added an unspeakable charm to her features, always lovely. I remarked a young lady, dressed magnificently, but wearing a mask, who appeared to me to be observing my ward with extraordinary interest. I had seen her, earlier in the evening, in the great hall, and again, for a few minutes, walking near us, on the terrace under the castle windows, similarly employed. A lady, also masked, richly and gravely dressed, and with a stately air, like a person of rank, accompanied her as a chaperon."

"Had the young lady not worn a mask, I could, of course, have been much more certain upon the question whether she was really watching my poor darling."

The generals eyes squeezed shut in pain as if grief would blind him forever. He sighed, opening his eyes staring into his memories.

"I am now well assured that she was. We were now in one of the salons. My poor dear child had been dancing, and was resting a little in one of the chairs near the door; I was standing near. The two ladies I have mentioned had approached and the younger took the chair next my ward; while her companion stood beside me, and for a little time addressed herself, in a low tone, to her charge."

He continued on as if in the deepest distress, saying "Availing herself of the privilege of her mask, she turned to me, and in tone of an old friend, and calling me by my name, opened a conversation with me, which piqued my curiosity a good deal for I was sure I did not know her. She referred to many scenes where she had met me—at Court, and at distinguished houses. She alluded to little incidents that a lady should not mention in polite society and which I had long ceased to think of, but which, I found, had only lain in abeyance in my memory, for they instantly started into life at her touch."

I watched my father and knew he longed to understand exactly what the General was so upset about; a long lost passion reminded was difficult once put out of mind. It might prove embarrassing but should not be voiced with such dread, unless there were circumstances would shock society and disgrace a person from further introductions.

"I became more and more curious to ascertain who she was, every moment. She parried my attempts to discover very adroitly and pleasantly. The knowledge she showed of many passages in my life seemed to me all but unaccountable; and she appeared to take a not unnatural pleasure in foiling my curiosity and in seeing me flounder in my eager perplexity, from one conjecture to another."

"In the meantime the young lady, whom her mother called by the odd name of Millarca, when she once or twice addressed her, had, with the same ease and grace, got into conversation with my ward."

"She introduced herself by saying that her mother was a very old acquaintance of mine. She spoke of the agreeable audacity which a mask rendered practicable; she talked like a friend; she admired her dress, and insinuated very prettily her admiration of her beauty. She amused her with laughing criticisms upon the people who crowded the ballroom, and laughed at my poor child's fun. She was very witty and lively when she pleased, and after a time they had grown very good friends, and the young stranger lowered her mask, displaying a remarkably beautiful face. I had never seen it before, neither had my dear child. But though it was new to us, the features were so engaging, as well as lovely, that it was impossible not to feel the attraction powerfully. My poor girl did so. I never saw anyone more taken with another at first sight, unless, indeed, it was the stranger herself, who seemed quite to have lost her heart to her."

He shuddered and said, "If only I had known what was to pass; perhaps I could have stopped it. Alas I did not know and my beautiful girl died for my ignorance."

Tears dripped down his lashes and we waited until the General could regain his composure and continue on with his tale. After a short time he became lost again in the fog of his memory for without preamble he began again; "In the meantime, availing myself of the license of a masquerade, I put not a few questions to the elder lady."

"'You have puzzled me utterly,' I said, laughing. 'Is that not enough? Won't you, now, consent to stand on equal terms, and do me the kindness to remove your mask?"

"Can any request be more unreasonable?' she replied. 'Ask a lady to

yield an advantage! Beside, how do you know you should recognize me? Years make changes."

"As you see, I said, with a bow, and, I suppose, a rather melancholy little laugh."

"As philosophers tell us,' she said; 'and how do you know that a sight of my face would help you?"

"I should take chance for that,' I answered. 'It is vain trying to make yourself out an old woman; your figure betrays you."

"Years, nevertheless, have passed since I saw you, rather since you saw me, for that is what I am considering. Millarca, there, is my daughter; I cannot then be young, even in the opinion of people whom time has taught to be indulgent, and I may not like to be compared with what you remember of me. You have no mask to remove. You can offer me nothing in exchange."

"My petition is to your pity, to remove it."

"And mine to yours, to let it stay where it is," she replied.

"Well, then, at least you will tell me whether you are French or German; you speak both languages so perfectly."

"I don't think I shall tell you that, General; you intend a surprise, and are meditating the particular point of attack."

"At all events, you won't deny this," I said, "that being honored by your permission to converse; I ought to know how to address you. Shall I say Madame la Comtesse?"

"She laughed, and she would, no doubt, have met me with another evasion—if, indeed, I can treat any occurrence in an interview every circumstance of which was prearranged, as I now believe, with the profoundest cunning, as liable to be modified by accident."

"As to that,' she began; but she was interrupted, almost as she opened her lips, by a gentleman, dressed in black, who looked particularly elegant and distinguished, with this drawback, that his face was the most deadly pale I ever saw, except in death. He was in no masquerade—in the plain evening dress of a gentleman; and he said, without a smile, but with a courtly and unusually low bow:—'Will Madame la Comtesse permit me to say a very few words which may interest her?"

"The lady turned quickly to him, and touched her lip in token of silence; she then said to me, 'Keep my place for me, General; I shall return when I have said a few words."

"And with this injunction, playfully given, she walked a little aside with the gentleman in black, and talked for some minutes, apparently very earnestly. They then walked away slowly together in the crowd, and I lost them for some minutes."

"I spent the interval in cudgeling my brains for a conjecture as to the identity of the lady who seemed to remember me so kindly, and I was thinking of turning about and joining in the conversation between my pretty ward and the Countess's daughter, and trying whether, by the time she returned, I might not have a surprise in store for her, by having her name, title, chateau, and estates at my fingers' ends. But at this moment she returned, accompanied by the pale man in black, who said: 'I shall return and inform Madame la Comtesse when her carriage is at the door.' "He withdrew with a bow; one so low and refined it was if he had been addressing royalty."

"Then we are to lose Madame la Comtesse, but I hope only for a few hours," I said, with a low bow.

"It may be that only, or it may be a few weeks. It was very unlucky his speaking to me just now as he did. Do you now know me?"

"I assured her I did not."

"'You shall know me,' she said, 'but not at present. We are older and better friends than, perhaps, you suspect. I cannot yet declare myself. I shall in three weeks pass your beautiful castle, about which I have been making enquiries. I shall then look in upon you for an hour or two, and renew a friendship which I never think of without a thousand pleasant recollections. This moment a piece of news has reached me like a thunderbolt. I must set out now, and travel by a devious route, nearly a hundred miles, with all the dispatch I can possibly make. My perplexities multiply. I am only deterred by the compulsory reserve I practice as to my name from making a very singular request of you. My poor child has not quite recovered her strength. Her horse fell with her, at a hunt which she had ridden out to witness, her nerves have not yet recovered from the shock, and our physician says that she must on no account exert herself for some time to come. We came here, in consequence, by very easy stages—hardly six leagues a day. I must now travel day and night, on a mission of life and death—a mission the critical and momentous nature of which I shall be able to explain to you when we meet, as I hope we shall, in a few weeks, without the necessity of any concealment."

"She went on to make her petition, and it was in the tone of a person from whom such a request amounted to conferring, rather than seeking a favor. This was only in manner, and, as it seemed, quite unconsciously. Than the terms in which it was expressed, nothing could be more deprecatory. It was simply that I would consent to take charge of her daughter during her absence."

"This was, all things considered, a strange, not to say, an audacious request. She in some sort disarmed me, by stating and admitting everything that could be urged against it, and throwing herself entirely upon my chivalry. At the same moment, by a fatality that seems to have predetermined all that happened, my poor child came to my side, and, in an undertone, besought me to invite her new friend, Millarca, to pay us a visit. She had just been sounding her out, and thought, if her mamma would allow it; she would like it extremely well."

"At another time I should have told her to wait a little, until, at least, we knew who they were. But I had not a moment to think in. The two ladies assailed me together, and I must confess the refined and beautiful face of the young lady, about which there was something extremely engaging, as well as the elegance and fire of high birth, determined me; and, quite overpowered, I submitted, and undertook, too easily, the care of the young lady, whom her mother called Millarca."

"The Countess beckoned to her daughter, who listened with grave attention while she told her, in general terms, how suddenly and peremptorily she had been summoned, and also of the arrangement she had made for her under my care, adding that I was one of her earliest and most valued friends."

"I made, of course, such speeches as the case seemed to call for, and found myself, on reflection, in a position which I did not half like. The gentleman in black returned, and very ceremoniously conducted the lady from the room."

"The demeanor of this gentleman was such as to impress me with the conviction that the Countess was a lady of very much more importance than her modest title alone might have led me to assume."

The General shook his head in disgust and said, "Her last charge to me was that no attempt was to be made to learn more about her than I might have already guessed, until her return. Our distinguished host, whose guest she was, knew her reasons."

"But here,' she said, 'neither I nor my daughter could safely remain for more than a day. I removed my mask imprudently for a moment, about an hour ago, and, too late, I fancied you saw me. So I resolved to seek an opportunity of talking a little to you. Had I found that you had seen me, I would have thrown myself on your high sense of honor to keep my secret some weeks. As it is, I am satisfied that you did not see me; but if you now suspect, or, on reflection, should suspect, who I am, I commit myself, in like manner, entirely to your honor. My daughter will observe the same secrecy, and I well know that you will, from time to time, remind her, lest she should thoughtlessly disclose it."

"She whispered a few words to her daughter, kissed her hurriedly twice, and went away, accompanied by the pale gentleman in black, and disappeared in the crowd."

"In the next room,' said Millarca, 'there is a window that looks upon the hall door. I should like to see the last of mamma, and to kiss my hand to her."

"We assented, of course, and accompanied her to the window. We looked out, and saw a handsome old-fashioned carriage, with a troop of couriers and footmen. We saw the slim figure of the pale gentleman in black, as he held a thick velvet cloak, and placed it about her shoulders and threw the hood over her head. She nodded to him, and just touched his hand with hers. He bowed low repeatedly as the door closed, and the carriage began to move."

"She is gone,' said Millarca, with a pitiful sigh."

"She is gone,' I repeated to myself, for the first time—in the hurried moments that had elapsed since my consent—reflecting upon the folly of my act."

"She did not look up,' said the young lady, plaintively."

"The Countess had taken off her mask, perhaps, and did not care to show her face,' I said; 'and she could not know that you were in the window."

"She sighed, and looked in my face. She was so beautiful that I relented."

"I was sorry I had for a moment repented of my hospitality, and I determined to make her amends for the unavowed churlishness of my reception."

"The young lady, replacing her mask, joined my ward in persuading me to return to the grounds, where the concert was soon to be renewed. We did so, and walked up and down the terrace that lies under the castle windows."

"Millarca became very intimate with us, and amused us with lively descriptions and stories of most of the great people whom we saw upon the terrace. I liked her more and more every minute. Her gossip without being ill-natured, was extremely diverting to me, who had been so long out of the great world. I thought what life she would give to our sometimes lonely evenings at home."

"This ball was not over until the morning sun had almost reached the horizon. It pleased the Grand Duke to dance till then, so loyal people could not go away, or think of bed. We had just got through a crowded saloon, when my ward asked me what had become of Millarca. I thought she had been by her side, and she fancied she was by mine. The fact was we had lost her."

"All my efforts to find her were vain. I feared that she had mistaken, in the confusion of a momentary separation from us, other people for her new friends, and had, possibly, pursued and lost them in the extensive grounds which were thrown open to us."

"Now, in its full force, I recognized a new folly in my having undertaken the charge of a young lady without so much as knowing her name; and fettered as I was by promises, of the reasons for imposing which I knew nothing, I could not even point my inquiries by saying that the missing young lady was the daughter of the Countess who had taken her departure a few hours before."

"Morning broke. It was clear daylight before I gave up my search. It was not till near two o'clock next day that we heard anything of my missing charge. At about that time a servant knocked at my niece's door, to say that he had been earnestly requested by a young lady, who appeared to be in great distress, to make out where she could find the General Baron Spielsdorf and the young lady his daughter, in whose charge she had been left by her mother."

"There could be no doubt, notwithstanding the slight inaccuracy that our young friend had turned up; and so she had. Would to heaven we had lost her!"

"She told my poor child a story to account for her having failed to recover us for so long. Very late, she said, she had got to the housekeeper's bedroom in despair of finding us, and had then fallen into a deep sleep which, long as it was, had hardly sufficed to recruit her strength after the fatigues of the ball."

"That day Millarca came home with us. I was only too happy, after all, to have secured so charming a companion for my dear girl."

"There soon, however, appeared some drawbacks. In the first place, Millarca complained of extreme languor—the weakness that remained after her late illness—and she never emerged from her room till the afternoon was pretty far advanced. In the next place, it was accidentally discovered, although she always locked her door on the inside, and never disturbed the key from its place till she admitted the maid to assist at her toilet, that she was undoubtedly sometimes absent from her room in the very early morning, and at various times later in the day, before she wished it to be understood that she was stirring."

At the Generals words Madame clutched my hand and we exchanged a silent glance. Nearly breathless I waited for him to continue. Reaching into his pocket he removed a small silver flask and took a healthy swallow. Clearing his throat he resumed his tale.

"She was repeatedly seen from the windows of the castle, in the first faint grey of the morning, walking through the trees, in an easterly direction, and looking like a person in a trance. This convinced me that she walked in her sleep. But this hypothesis did not solve the puzzle. How did she pass out from her room, leaving the door locked on the inside? How did she escape from the house without unbarring door or window?"

I dug my hands into the dog's fur and felt my heart skip. This sounded all too familiar. I felt Madame move and glanced at her. She had retrieved her rosary beads and was making the sign of the cross. Truly we were afraid but each of us was still willing to give Carmilla the benefit of our good hearts until proven otherwise.

"In the midst of my perplexities, an anxiety of a far more urgent kind presented itself. My dear child began to lose her looks and health, and that in a manner so mysterious, and even horrible, that I became thoroughly frightened.

"She was at first visited by appalling dreams; then, as she fancied, by a specter, sometimes resembling Millarca, sometimes in the shape of a beast, indistinctly seen, walking round the foot of her bed, from side to side."

I could not help it. I gasped in shock for these were the same complaints that I had suffered these many months. I looked to Father and found him watching me with worried eyes. To soothe myself I began to stroke the dogs head and whisper the Pater Noster under my breath. The General continued on unaware that I was trembling in fear of his next words.

"Lastly there came the strange sensations. One, not unpleasant, but very peculiar, she said, resembled the flow of an icy stream against her breast. At a later time, she felt something like pair of large needles pierce her, a little below the throat, with a very sharp pain. A few nights after, followed a gradual and convulsive sense of strangulation; then came unconsciousness."

I could hear distinctly every word the kind old General was saying, because by this time we were driving upon the short grass that spreads on either side of the road as you approach the roofless village which had not shown the smoke of a chimney for more than half a century.

You may guess how strangely I felt as I heard my own symptoms so exactly described in those which had been experienced by the poor girl who, but for the catastrophe which followed, would have been at that moment a visitor at my father's chateau. You may suppose, also, how I felt as I heard him detail habits and mysterious peculiarities which were, in fact, those of our beautiful guest, Carmilla!

A vista opened in the forest; we were quickly under the chimneys and gables of the ruined village, and the towers and battlements of the dismantled castle, round which gigantic trees are grouped, overhung us from a slight eminence.

In a frightened dream I got down from the carriage, and in silence, for we had each abundant matter for thinking; we soon mounted the ascent, and were among the spacious chambers, winding stairs, and dark corridors of the castle.

"And this was once the palatial residence of the Karnsteins!" said the old General at length, as from a great window he looked out across the village, and saw the wide, undulating expanse of forest.

"It was a bad family, and here its bloodstained annals were written," he continued. "It is hard that they should, after death, continue to plague the human race with their atrocious lusts. That is the chapel of the Karnsteins, down there."

He pointed down to the grey walls of the Gothic building partly visible through the foliage, a little way down the steep. "And I hear the axe of a woodman," he added, "busy among the trees that surround it; he possibly may give us the information of which I am in search, and point out the grave of Mircalla, Countess of Karnstein. These rustics preserve the local traditions of great families, whose stories die out among the rich and titled so soon as the families themselves become extinct."

"We have a portrait, at home, of Mircalla, the Countess Karnstein; should you like to see it?" asked my father.

"Time enough, dear friend," replied the General. "I believe that I have seen the original; and one motive which has led me to you earlier than I at first intended, was to explore the chapel which we are now approaching."

"What! See the Countess Mircalla?" exclaimed my father; "why, she has been dead for centuries!"

"Not so dead as you fancy, I am told," answered the General as he cast a dark look about the place.

"I confess, General, you puzzle me utterly," replied my father.

Looking at him, I fancied, for a moment a return of the suspicion I detected before when he first saw me. But although there was anger and detestation, at times, in the old General's manner, there was nothing flighty.

"There remains to me," he said, as we passed under the heavy arch of the Gothic church—for its dimensions would have justified its being so styled—"but one object which can interest me during the few years that remain to me on earth, and that is to wreak on her the vengeance which, I thank God, may still be accomplished by a mortal arm."

"What vengeance can you mean?" asked my father, in increasing amazement.

"I mean to decapitate the monster," he answered, with a fierce flush, and a stamp that echoed mournfully through the hollow ruin, and his clenched hand was at the same moment raised, as if it already grasped the handle of an axe, while he shook it ferociously in the air.

"What?" exclaimed my father, more than bewildered than before, "Why ever would you do such a thing?"

"I intend to strike her head off." He uttered with a sense of finality.

"Cut her head off!" My poor father looked suitable horrified and seemed at a loss for further words.

"Aye, with a hatchet, with a spade, or with anything that can cleave through her murderous throat. You shall hear all and know that my cause is just," he answered, trembling with rage.

And hurrying forward he said: "That beam will answer for a seat; your dear child is fatigued; let her be seated, and I will, in a few sentences, close my dreadful story."

The squared block of wood, which lay on the grass-grown pavement of the chapel, formed a bench on which I was very glad to seat myself, and in the meantime the General called to the woodman, who had been removing some boughs which leaned upon the old walls; and, axe in hand, the hardy old fellow stood before us.

He could not tell us anything of these monuments; but there was an old man, he said, a ranger of this forest, at present sojourning in the house of the priest, about two miles away, who could point out every monument of the old Karnstein family; and, for a trifle, he undertook to bring him back with him, if we would lend him one of our horses, in little more than half an hour.

"Have you been long employed about this forest?" asked my father of the old man.

"I have been a woodman here," he answered in his patois, "under the forester, all my days; so has my father before me, and so on, as many generations as I can count up. I could show you the very house in the village here, in which my ancestors lived."

"How came the village to be deserted?" asked the General.

"It was troubled by revenants, sir; several were tracked to their graves, there detected by the usual tests, and extinguished in the usual way, by decapitation, by the stake, and by burning; but not until many of the villagers were killed."

"But after all these proceedings according to law," he continued—"so many graves opened, and so many vampires deprived of their horrible animation—the village was not relieved. But a Moravian nobleman, who happened to be traveling this way, heard how matters were, and being skilled—as many people are in his country—in such affairs, he offered to deliver the village from its tormentor. He did so thus: There being a bright moon that night, he ascended, shortly after sunset, the towers of the chapel here, from whence he could distinctly see the churchyard beneath him; you can see it from that window. From this point he watched until he saw the vampire come out of his grave, and place near it the linen clothes in which he had been folded, and then glide away towards the village to plague its inhabitants."

"The stranger, having seen all this, came down from the steeple, took the linen wrappings of the vampire, and carried them up to the top of the tower, which he again mounted. When the vampire returned from his prowling and missed his clothes, he cried furiously to the Moravian, whom he saw at the summit of the tower, and who, in reply, beckoned him to ascend and take them. Whereupon the vampire, accepting his invitation, began to climb the steeple, and so soon as he had reached the battlements, the Moravian, with a stroke of his sword, clove his skull in two, hurling him down to the churchyard, whither, descending by the winding stairs, the stranger followed and cut his head off, and next day delivered it and the body to the villagers, who duly impaled and burnt them."

"This Moravian nobleman had authority from the then head of the family to remove the tomb of Mircalla, Countess Karnstein, which he did effectually, so that in a little while its site was quite forgotten."

"Can you point out where it stood?" asked the General, eagerly.

The forester shook his head, and smiled.

"Not a soul living could tell you that now," he said; "besides, they say her body was removed; but no one is sure of that either. Some believe she was re-buried with her mother that died here shortly after her arrival from Spain. Others say the tomb was always empty since some stories say her body washed down the river never to be found."

Having thus spoken, as time pressed, he dropped his axe and departed, leaving us to hear the remainder of the General's strange story. I was rendered nearly senseless by the woodsman's story. It fitted perfectly with the history of the Montoya girl lost through time though her suffering had been most acute.

The General seemed unaware of my failing ability to remain silently pliant and my dread deepened until I thought I would go mad. Yet he continued on without notice that his three listeners were equally distressed.

"My beloved child," he resumed, "was now growing rapidly worse. The physician who attended her had failed to produce the slightest impression on her disease, for such I then supposed it to be. He saw my alarm, and suggested a consultation. I called in an abler physician, from Gratz."

"Several days elapsed before he arrived. He was a good and pious, as well as a learned man. Having seen my poor ward together, they withdrew to my library to confer and discuss. I, from the adjoining room, where I awaited their summons, heard these two gentlemen's voices raised in something sharper than a strictly philosophical discussion. I knocked at the door and entered. I found the old physician from Gratz maintaining his theory. His rival was combating it with undisguised ridicule, accompanied with bursts of laughter. This unseemly manifestation subsided and the altercation ended on my entrance."

"Sir,' said my first physician, 'my learned brother seems to think that you want a conjuror, and not a doctor."

"Pardon me,' said the old physician from Gratz, looking displeased, 'I shall state my own view of the case in my own way another time. I grieve, Monsieur le General, that by my skill and science I can be of no use. Before I go I shall do myself the honor to suggest something to you."

"He seemed thoughtful, and sat down at a table and began to write."

"Profoundly disappointed, I made my bow, and as I turned to go, the other doctor pointed over his shoulder to his companion who was writing, and then, with a shrug, significantly touched his forehead."

"This consultation, then, left me precisely where I was. I walked out into the grounds, all but distracted. The doctor from Gratz, in ten or fifteen minutes, overtook me. He apologized for having followed me, but said that he could not conscientiously take his leave without a few words more. He told me that he could not be mistaken; no natural disease exhibited the same symptoms; and that death was already very near. There remained, however, a day, or possibly two, of life. If the fatal seizure were at once arrested, with great care and skill her strength might possibly return. But all hung now upon the confines of the irrevocable. One more assault might extinguish the last spark of vitality which is, every moment, ready to die."

"And what is the nature of the seizure you speak of?' I entreated.

'"I have stated all fully in this note, which I place in your hands upon the distinct condition that you send for the nearest clergyman, and open my letter in his presence, and on no account read it till he is with you; you would despise it else, and it is a matter of life and death. Should the priest fail you, then, indeed, you may read it."

"He asked me, before taking his leave finally, whether I would wish to see a man curiously learned upon the very subject, which, after I had read his letter, would probably interest me above all others, and he urged me earnestly to invite him to visit him there; and so took his leave."

"The ecclesiastic was absent, and I read the letter by myself. At another time, or in another case, it might have excited my ridicule. But into what quackeries will not people rush for a last chance, where all accustomed means have failed, and the life of a beloved object is at stake?"

"Nothing, you will say, could be more absurd than the learned man's letter. It was monstrous enough to have consigned him to a madhouse. He said that the patient was suffering from the visits of a vampire! The punctures which she described as having occurred near the throat, were, he insisted, the insertion of those two long, thin, and sharp teeth which, it is well known, are peculiar to vampires; and there could be no doubt, he added, as to the well-defined presence of the small livid mark which all concurred in describing as that induced by the demon's lips, and every symptom described by the sufferer was in exact conformity with those recorded in every case of a similar visitation."

"Being myself wholly skeptical as to the existence of any such portent as the vampire, the supernatural theory of the good doctor furnished, in my opinion, but another instance of learning and intelligence oddly associated with someone hallucination. I was so miserable, however, that, rather than try nothing, I acted upon the instructions of the letter."

"I concealed myself in the dark dressing room that opened upon the poor patient's room, in which a candle was left burning, and watched until she was fast asleep. I stood at the door, peeping through the small crevice, my sword laid on the table beside me, as my directions prescribed, until, a little after one, I saw a large black object, very ill-defined, crawl, as it seemed to me, over the foot of the bed, and swiftly spread itself up to the poor girl's throat, where it swelled, in a moment, into a great, palpitating mass."

"For a few moments I had stood petrified. I now sprang forward, with my sword in my hand. The black creature suddenly contracted towards the foot of the bed, glided over it, and, standing on the floor about a yard below the foot of the bed, with a glare of skulking ferocity and horror fixed on me, I saw Millarca. Speculating I know not what, I struck at her instantly with my sword; but I saw her standing near the door, unscathed. Horrified, I pursued, and struck again. She was gone; and my sword flew to shivers against the door."

"I can't describe to you all that passed on that horrible night. The whole house was up and stirring. The specter Millarca was gone. But her victim was sinking fast, and before the morning dawned, she died."

The old General was agitated. We did not speak to him but left him to his thoughts. My father walked to some little distance, and began reading the inscriptions on the tombstones; and thus occupied, he strolled into the door of a side chapel to prosecute his researches. The General leaned against the wall, dried his eyes, and sighed heavily. I was relieved on hearing the voices of Carmilla and Mademoiselle, who were at that moment approaching; for surely in the light of day we would find that our dear Carmilla was as much of a victim as I.

The voices died away and I strained my ears to hear which way they would come for the stone walls caused sound to shift and echo in an eerie manner.

In this solitude, having just listened to so strange a story, connected, as it was, with the great and titled dead, whose monuments were moldering among the dust and ivy round us, and every incident of which bore so awfully upon my own mysterious case—in this haunted spot, darkened by the towering foliage that rose on every side, dense and high above its noiseless walls—a horror began to steal over me, and my heart sank as I thought that my friends were, after all, not about to enter and disturb this dark and ominous scene.

The old General's eyes were fixed on the ground, as he leaned with his hand upon the basement of a shattered monument.

Under a narrow, arched doorway, surmounted by one of those demoniacal

grotesques in which the cynical and ghastly fancy of old Gothic carving delights, I saw very gladly the beautiful face and figure of Carmilla enter the shadowy chapel. I was just about to rise and speak, and nodded smiling, in answer to her peculiarly engaging smile; when with a cry, the old man by my side caught up the woodman's hatchet, and started forward. On seeing him a brutalized change came over her features. It was an instantaneous and horrible transformation, as she made a crouching step backwards. Before I could utter a scream, he struck at her with all his force, but she dived under his blow, and unscathed, caught him in her tiny grasp by the wrist. He struggled for a moment to release his arm, but his handopened, the axe fell to the ground, and the girl was gone leaving the General slumped on his knees.

He staggered against the wall and pulled himself upright. His grey hair stood upon his head, and moisture shone over his blanched face, as if he were at the point of death. The frightful scene had passed in a moment. The first thing I recollect after this was Madame and Mademoiselle standing before me, and Madame impatiently repeating again and again, the question, "Where is Mademoiselle Carmilla?"

I answered at length, "I don't know—I can't tell—she went there," and I pointed to the door through which Mademoiselle had just entered; "Only a minute or two since."

Madame said, "But I have been standing there, in the passage, ever since Mademoiselle Carmilla entered; and she did not return."

She then began to call to Carmilla, through every door and passage and from the windows, but no answer came.

"She called herself Carmilla?" asked the General, still agitated.

"Carmilla, yes," I answered.

"Aye," he said; "that is Millarca. That is the same person who long ago was called Mircalla, Countess Karnstein. Depart from this accursed ground, my poor child, as quickly as you can. Drive to the clergyman's house, and stay there till we come. Make haste for time is against us all! May you never behold Carmilla more; you will not find her here."

As he spoke one of the strangest looking men I ever beheld entered the chapel at the door through which Carmilla had made her entrance and her exit. He was tall, narrow and stooping, with high shoulders, and dressed entirely in black. His face was brown and dried in with deep furrows; he wore an oddly-shaped hat with a broad leaf. His hair, long and grizzled, hung on his shoulders. He wore a pair of gold spectacles, and walked slowly, with an odd shambling gait, with his face sometimes turned up to the sky, and sometimes bowed down towards the ground, seemed to wear a perpetual smile; his long thin arms were swinging, and his lank hands, in old black gloves ever so much too wide for them, waving and gesticulating in utter abstraction.

"The very man!" exclaimed the General, advancing with manifest delight.

"My dear Baron, how happy I am to see you; I had no hope of meeting you so soon."

He signed to my father, who had by this time returned, and leading the fantastic old gentleman, whom he called the Baron to meet him. He introduced him formally, and they at once entered into earnest conversation. The stranger took a roll of paper from his pocket, and spread it on the worn surface of a tomb that stood by. He had a pencil case in his fingers, with which he traced imaginary lines from point to point on the paper, which from their often glancing from it, together, at certain points of the building, I concluded to be a plan of the chapel. He accompanied, what I may term, his lecture, with occasional readings from a dirty little book, whose yellow leaves were closely written over.

They sauntered together down the side aisle, opposite to the spot where I was standing, conversing as they went; then they began measuring distances by paces, and finally they all stood together, facing a piece of the sidewall, which they began to examine with great minuteness; pulling off the ivy that clung over it, and rapping the plaster with the ends of their sticks, scraping here, and knocking there. At length they ascertained the existence of a broad marble tablet, with letters carved in relief upon it.

With the assistance of the woodman, who soon returned; a monumental inscription and carved escutcheon, were disclosed. They proved to be those of the long lost monument of Mircalla, Countess Karnstein.

The old General, though not I fear given to the praying mood, raised his hands and eyes to heaven, in mute thanksgiving for some moments.

"Tomorrow," I heard him say; "the commissioner will be here, and the Inquisition will be held according to law."

Then turning to the old man with the gold spectacles, whom I have described, he shook him warmly by both hands and said: "Baron, how can I thank you? How can we all thank you? You will have delivered this region from a plague that has scourged its inhabitants for more than three centuries. The horrible enemy, thank God, is at last tracked."

My father led the stranger aside, and the General followed. I know that he had led them out of hearing that he might relate my case, and I saw them glance often quickly at me, as the discussion proceeded.

My father came to me, kissed me again and again, and leading me from the chapel, said: "It is time to return, but before we go home, we must add to our party the good priest, who lives but a little way from this; and persuade him to accompany us home."

I started for a moment as I had not disclosed to my father that I had already made the acquaintance of the priest. Yet I sensed the priest would not give away the knowledge of my visit.

In this quest we were successful: and I was glad, being unspeakably fatigued when we reached home. But my satisfaction was changed to dismay, on discovering that there were no tidings of Carmilla. Of the scene that had occurred in the ruined chapel, no explanation was offered to me, and it was clear that it was a secret which my father for the present determined to keep from me.

The sinister absence of Carmilla made the remembrance of the scene more horrible to me. The arrangements for the night were singular. Two servants, and Madame were to sit up in my room that night; and the ecclesiastic with my father kept watch in the adjoining dressing room. My dog was allowed to remain within and stood guard at the balcony doors.

The priest had performed certain solemn rites that night, the purport of which I did not understand any more than I comprehended the reason of this extraordinary precaution taken for my safety during sleep.

I saw all clearly a few days later. The disappearance of Carmilla was followed by the discontinuance of my nightly sufferings. You have heard, no doubt, of the appalling superstition that prevails in Upper and Lower Styria, in Moravia, Silesia, in Turkish Serbia, in Poland, even in Russia; the superstition, so we must call it, of the Vampire. If human testimony, taken with every care and solemnity, judicially, before commissions innumerable, each consisting of many members, all chosen for integrity and intelligence, and constituting reports more voluminous perhaps than exist upon any one other class of cases, is worth anything, it is difficult to deny, or even to doubt the existence of such a phenomenon as the Vampire.

For my part I have heard no theory by which to explain what I myself have witnessed and experienced, other than that supplied by the ancient and well-attested belief of the country and the Jesuits research.

The next day the formal proceedings took place in the Chapel of Karnstein. The grave of the Countess Mircalla was opened; and the General and my father recognized each his perfidious and beautiful guest lying side by side with her mother; their faces now disclosed to view. The features, though over two hundred and fifty years had passed since their funerals, were tinted with the warmth of life.

The senior Countess slept with her eyes closed and her mouth in a tight line. Carmilla lay there with her eyes open; her expression tinged with sadness and loss. No cadaverous smell exhaled from the coffin. The two medical men, one officially present, the other on the part of the promoter of the inquiry, attested the marvelous fact that there was a faint but appreciable respiration, and a corresponding action of the heart in both women.

The limbs were perfectly flexible, the flesh elastic; and the leaden coffin floated with blood, in which to a depth of seven inches, the bodies lay immersed. Here then, were all the admitted signs and proofs of vampirism. The bodies, therefore, in accordance with the ancient practice, was raised and placed on the ground. The Countess was dealt with first; a sharp stake driven through the heart of the vampire, who uttered a piercing shriek at the moment, in all respects such as might escape from a living person in the last agony.

Carmilla watched, aware of her impending death as the stake was raised above her breast and her eyes followed it to its apex. Looking round at the men she whispered, "Forgive me as I could not help myself," and closed her eyes before the blow was struck. Unlike her mother she made no sound when the wooden stake pierced her heart. Then their heads were struck off, and a torrent of blood flowed from the severed necks. The bodies and heads were next placed on a pile of wood, and reduced to ashes, which were thrown upon the river and borne away; and that territory has never since been plagued by the visits of a vampire.

My father has a copy of the report of the Imperial Commission, with the signatures of all who were present at these proceedings, attached in verification of the statement. It is from this official paper that I have summarized my account of this last shocking scene.


	10. Chapter 10

I write all this you might suppose with a healthy level of composure. But far from it; I cannot think of it without agitation. Nothing but your earnest desire so repeatedly expressed, could have induced me to sit down to a task that has unstrung my nerves for months to come, and reintroduced a shadow of the unspeakable horror which years after my deliverance continued to make my days and nights dreadful, and solitude insupportably terrific.

Let me add a word or two about that quaint Baron Vordenburg, to whose curious lore we were indebted for the discovery of the Countess Mircalla's grave.

He had taken up his abode in Gratz, where, living upon a mere pittance, which was all that remained to him of the once princely estates of his family, in Upper Styria, he devoted himself to the minute and laborious investigation of the marvelously authenticated tradition of Vampirism.

He had at his fingers' ends all the great and little works upon the subject.

"Magia Posthuma," "Phlegon de Mirabilibus," "Augustinus de cura pro Mortuis," "Philosophicae et Christianae Cogitationes de Vampiris," by John Christofer Herenberg; and a thousand others, among which I remember only a few of those which he lent to my father. He had a voluminous digest of all the judicial cases, from which he had extracted a system of principles that appear to govern—some always, and others occasionally only—the condition of the vampire. He was also a frequent correspondent of the Jesuit as both men each sought to study and combat the vampire. I may mention, in passing, that the deadly pallor attributed to that sort of revenants, is a mere melodramatic fiction, although some may appear pale from a failure to consume enough to maintain a living color. They usually present, in the grave, and when they show themselves in human society, the appearance of healthy life. When disclosed to light in their coffins, they exhibit all the symptoms that are enumerated as those which proved the vampire-life of the long-dead Countess Karnstein.

How they escape from their graves and return to them for certain hours every day, without displacing the clay or leaving any trace of disturbance in the state of the coffin or the cerements, has always been admitted to be utterly inexplicable. The amphibious existence of the vampire is sustained by daily renewed slumber in the grave. Its horrible lust for living blood supplies the vigor of its waking existence.

The vampire is prone to be fascinated with an engrossing vehemence, resembling the passion of love, by particular persons. In pursuit of these individuals it will exercise inexhaustible patience and stratagem, for access to a particular person may be obstructed in a hundred ways. The vampire will never desist until it has satiated its passion, and drained the very life of its coveted victim. But it will, in these cases, husband and protract its murderous enjoyment with the refinement of an epicure, and heighten it by the gradual approaches of an artful courtship. In these cases it seems to yearn for something like sympathy and consent. In all other attacks the vampire goes directly to its object or to speak in earnest truth its prey. Like all dangerous predators it overpowers the victim with stealth and swift violence. The poor victim's strangle as their very life force is drained away. Death most often comes after single feast as their blood is emptied to satisfy the unholy hunger of the dark lust that drives the creature.

The vampire is, apparently, subject, in certain situations, to special conditions. In the particular instance of which I have given you a relation, Mircalla seemed to be limited to a name which, if not her real one, should at least reproduce, without the omission or addition of a single letter, those, as we say, anagrammatically, which compose it. Carmilla did this; so did Millarca.

My father related to the Baron Vordenburg, who remained with us for two or three weeks after the expulsion of Carmilla, the story about the Moravian nobleman and the vampire at Karnstein churchyard, and then he asked the Baron how he had discovered the exact position of the long concealed tomb of the Countess Mircalla?

The Baron's grotesque features puckered up into a mysterious smile; he looked down, still smiling on his worn spectacle case and fumbled with it. Then looking up, he said: "I have many journals, and other papers, written by that remarkable man; the most curious among them is one treating of the visit of which you speak, to Karnstein. The tradition, of course, discolors and distorts a little. He might have been termed a Moravian nobleman, for he had changed his abode to that territory, and was, beside, a noble. But he was, in truth, a native of Upper Styria. It is enough to say that in very early youth he had been a passionate and favored lover of the beautiful Mircalla, Countess Karnstein.

Her early death plunged him into inconsolable grief. It is the nature of vampires to increase and multiply, but according to an ascertained and ghostly law. I believe him to have found her body after her husband had it flung into the river and sought to give her a proper burial.

"Assume, at starting, a territory perfectly free from that pest. How does it begin, and how does it multiply itself? I will tell you. A person, more or less wicked, puts an end to himself. A suicide, under certain circumstances, becomes a vampire. This would explain the Countess Montoya; if she had killed herself upon news of her daughter's death. As for the Countess Karnstein my learned friend believes she was already in the throes of a Civatateo when she leaped from her window. For her there was no choice; wicked she was not but already bitten and then to commit self-murder she was done for, nothing could have altered her fate.

That specter visits living people in their slumbers; they die, and almost invariably, in the grave, some will develop into vampires. This happened in the case of the beautiful Mircalla, who was haunted by one of those demons whom Alexander believes was the evil Civatateo named Palmira.

My ancestor, Vordenburg, whose title I still bear, soon discovered this, and in the course of the studies, to which he devoted himself, learned a great deal more. "Among other things, he concluded that suspicion of vampirism would probably fall, sooner or later, upon the dead Countess, who in life had been his idol. He conceived a horror, be she what she might, of her remains being profaned by the outrage of a posthumous execution. He has left a curious paper to prove that the vampire, on its expulsion from its amphibious existence, is projected into a far more horrible life; and he resolved to save his once beloved Mircalla from this.

"He adopted the stratagem of a journey here, a pretended removal of her remains, and a real obliteration of her monument. When age had stolen upon him, and from the vale of years, he looked back on the scenes he was leaving, he considered, in a different spirit, what he had done, and a horror took possession of him. He made the tracings and notes which have guided me to the very spot, and drew up a confession of the deception that he had practiced. If he had intended any further action in this matter, death prevented him; and the hand of a remote descendant has, too late for many, directed the pursuit to the lair of the beast."

We talked a little more, and among other things he said was this: "One sign of the vampire is the power of the hand. The slender hand of Mircalla closed like a vice of steel on the General's wrist when he raised the hatchet to strike. But its power is not confined to its grasp; it leaves a lingering numbness in the limb it seizes, which is slowly, if ever, recovered from."

The following spring my father took me a tour through Italy. We remained away for more than a year but on our return I began plans for my wedding to Thomas. Papa announced he couldn't be happier for me and I anxiously oversaw ever detail. Yet it was months before the terror of recent events subsided; and to this hour the image of Carmilla returns to memory with ambiguous alternations—sometimes the playful, languid, beautiful girl; sometimes the writhing fiend I saw in the ruined church; and often from a reverie I have started, fancying I heard the light step of Carmilla at the drawing room door.


End file.
